A Visiting Princess
by Bride of Thranduil
Summary: Thranduil falls for the illegitimate daughter of the King of Balinor. Can he convince her that she rules his heart? Prologue just added, so if you're looking for the newest chapter, it's at the beginning. Thranduil/OC
1. Prologue: It Should Have Been You

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

A/N: A big hello to all my readers! After a long hiatus, I've decided to give this story some long overdue updates! I'm also working on a Belle/Gaston fic called _Crazy Old Maurice_ if anyone wants to check that out. I'm uploading this chapter as a prologue. It does spoil somethings for those of you who haven't read the other chapters in the order I posted them, but I'm hoping it will help give the story a more cohesive feel.

Prologue: It Should Have Been You

The stench of the battlefield was overwhelming. It was the smell that thousands of God's creatures made as they bled, evacuated their bowels, and died. No other smell approached it in rankness. Thranduil strode passed line after line of the dead and dying. All this devastation was wrought by the wars of men. He had seen it for a thousand years and he would continue to see it as long as their race reigned on this earth. They were a pestilence on his world. He hated them all, except one. Was his queen not part of this degenerate and filthy race? Were these poor wretches who called for mercy not her people? Thranduil clenched his jaw and picked up his pace. He searched every face for signs of her sweet features. He looked into every set of vacant unseeing eyes, praying to gods he didn't believe in not to find her there.

The battle had been over for hours and he had not even realized she was gone until it was too late. The thought made him so angry he wanted to wrap his long fingers around her throat, but he knew that if he found her unharmed he would likely weep with joy instead. He had denied her pleas to aid her father in his war. He knew the wraiths were coming. He knew that soon they would be as his door, and then his people would be at their mercy as well. They would suffer and die even as his solders fought them off. He knew helping his neighbor would be for the greater good, but he would not. Men were a disease that needed to be purged from this planet. He saw the value in letting the wraiths do their work before he rallied his army to beat them down. He wanted their numbers decimated. He wanted the few survivors to live together in tiny communities that could not possibly endure. If he handled this well, it would be the beginning of the end for the race of men. After all, were they not inferior to elves in every way? Why should they rule the world simply because they bred like rabbits?

Except for his beloved of course. She was a like a soothing balm to a burn. She alone from her race was worthy of his affection. He didn't understand how it could be so. How could she be so vastly superior to even her own kin? Her sister was nothing to behold. It was her birthright to rule, but she was coarse. It was Brinya alone from the race of men who was worth saving. That was why he had not instructed his army to march sooner. He wanted to wait until the battle was well underway before he sacrificed Elvish lives. He would rather have his soldiers die bravely killing as many of the creatures as they could rather than die in vain trying to save unworthy humans. His queen had begged him to go to Balinor's aid sooner, but he would not heed her cries. He stubbornly stayed his course, determined to wait out the worst of the damage before he ordered an attack.

He had been a fool. What had made him think that his wife would quietly accept his decision and allow her people to be slaughtered while she hid behind his walls? No doubt other wives would have accepted his decision and wept for their countrymen in private, but Brinya was different. She was raised to be a solder. Her anger had seen her through the pain of all she had lost in life, her mother, her childhood home, her name. Since she was old enough to choose, she had chosen the sword. She was much more than a lady in waiting to her princess. She was a trained body guard. It had given her life a purpose when the laws of men failed to provide one for her. When Princess Anoria announced that she and her retinue were leaving the safety of Mirkwood to aid Balinor in its fight against the wraiths Thranduil had laughed. He had told his advisors that he was glad to get rid of their vapid smiles and their simpering laughs. She and her ladies were useless. He had not even considered how their departure would affect his wife. He hadn't given a single thought to the possibility that after years of loyal service to the crown of Balinor, a marriage of a few months to him might not eclipse everything she had been before she came here. She had been deadly. He hadn't realized it at first. She had a sweet disposition and a kind heart. It was only when he really got to know her that he saw how deep her dedication to her family and her people ran. Though she had been trained in all the knowledge of a lady's life at court, she had also been trained in other things, things taught to women only in secret. She understood how to mix and manufacture a vast array of poisons. She could kill a man in total silence or make him scream all his secrets. She was the closest thing to a goddess he had ever known, and she was almost definitely here among those maimed on the battlefield.

He hated himself. Since the steady return of his human emotions, self-loathing had become Thranduil's constant companion. He could handle hatred. Keeping hate reigned in wasn't so different from his normal feeling of total numbness. He concealed it with a careful mask of complete indifference. It was the longing for her that nearly drove him to his knees. Her absence felt like a fist that was ever expanding and contracting around his heart. Was she here? Was she beyond his help? For the millionth time, he cursed himself. He cursed the day he was born. He cursed the day he had met her. She had brought him back from the edge of fading and prolonged his nearly human existence, and this was the price she had paid for it. He wished now that he had let himself go. He should have allowed himself to turn into a soulless ghost instead of seeking her attentions. If he could do it all again, that's what he would do. He would rather fade into oblivion that subject her to the horror of war. There was no end to the atrocities men visited on each other in the battlefield. His pointy ears perked slightly as he heard a voice calling for help. There was plenty of that here, men begging to be put out of their misery. This voice was of a higher pitch than the rest. It belonged to a woman. He listened intently, trying to discern where it was coming from. He heard it again, "Please, someone, please help us." He broke into a full sprint toward the sound.

Thranduil had seen many things in his long life, but nothing could have prepared him for this. It was Anoria who was calling for aid. She was bent over her sister's prone form, stroking her hair. He could feel his heart beating in his throat when he saw them. There was so much blood. The king dropped to his knees in front of Anoria and the still form of Brinya. He was kneeling in a crimson puddle, but he barely noticed. Brinya was white as parchment, but there was no wound that he could see. "Where is it all coming from?" he asked Anoria, noticing her for the first time.

She shook her head, but didn't acknowledge his question. "It's my fault," she said, "She came to protect me, like she always has. I did this." Tears pooled in her eyes, but failed to spill out onto her cheeks. Thranduil silently laid his head on Brinya's chest. Her heart was still faintly beating. There was still hope. He needed to ascertain where she was damaged. He took Anoria's chin in his hand and forced her to meet his gaze, "Tell me how this happened. I must know before I can help her." It was a command from a king and even after so much bloodshed, it was hard to ignore. Anoria took a shuddering breath and tried to speak in a steady voice. "I wanted to ride into battle and help my father. It was stupid. I was raised to rule with a word, not a sword. She knew what I was planning and she wouldn't let me go alone. She said she would protect me, just like when we were children. I didn't know about the baby, I swear. We were riding toward the melee when one of them ran at my horse. The animal panicked and reared. It threw me. I didn't see exactly what happened. That thing was almost on top of me. It wasn't a man anymore. I know it used to be, but not anymore. Brinya got between us and it kicked her hard in the stomach. She took its head, but after that, I could tell she was really hurt. I've seen her take harder hits plenty of times, but I knew something was wrong. She said that it was only a little thing, but that it had stopped growing. That was when I saw the blood. I killed her."

Thranduil tasted salt on his lips and realized that he was weeping. She was so stupid. Why would she risk her life fighting for a kingdom that had never done anything for her? What had Balinor ever done to deserve her loyalty. The court had treated her with contempt and she had laid down her life for it. Why hadn't she told him about the baby? He knew that answer, too, of course. He would have tried to convince her to end the pregnancy. Human women weren't built to carry elven children. He had no idea what his child would have done to her. If it was anything like him, it would consume her without a second thought. Now he'd never know. This was far beyond his ability to heal. It was true he had some healing abilities, but she needed someone more proficient. He lifted her into his arms like she weighed nothing at all. "I'm taking her to someone who can help. You can follow if you are able." He regarded Anoria with an icy stare, "It should have been you."


	2. The Other Sister

"My lord," Halthar bowed deferentially to his king, "the ladies from Balinor are here."

King Thranduil nodded almost imperceptibly. He was no friend to the race of men, but his ally had asked him if he might safely remove his daughter to Mirkwood until the looming threat of war subsided. The king in question had traded with the woodland realm for many years and he had gradually earned Thranduil's respect. Today brought the princess from Balinor with her ladies in waiting. Thranduil watched as they paraded across the courtyard for an audience with him. He disliked human women especially. He believed that elves were as superior in mind as they were in body and the females of the race of men struck him as particularly vulgar. He recognized the princess immediately. She wore a fine brocaded frock and the jewels that adorned her person seemed numberless. Her face was pleasant enough and her voice had a light airy quality. She cleared her throat before she started to speak, "We thank you, great Elvenking, for granting us refuge here. You do us a great honor and we sincerely hope that one day we may endeavor to repay your kindness."

"I sincerely hope that there will never be a need," he replied, sweeping his gaze over her coldly. She certainly wasn't lovely enough to tempt him. He often wondered how even the race of men themselves found their women alluring. They were so coarse, always putting themselves on display. Even now, he felt like there was something in her speech that was designed to make this girl desirous. There was supposed to be something about her rounded bosom and her rosy cheeks that made men want to draw close. The Elvenking was repulsed. He motioned for Halthar to show them to their quarters. They would be comfortable enough and with any luck they wouldn't stay long. As the procession passed him he noticed one of the ladies in waiting bore a striking resemblance to the princess. It was more than the common resemblance humans from a similar geography often bore to each other. This was a remarkable similarity and yet she bore no marks of distinction. She was no more richly attired than the other ladies and they seemed to pay her no special reverence. Admittedly, Thranduil paid her a little more attention than was necessary. Unlike her twin, this woman carried herself with a grace he had always thought was particular to elves. She walked lightly and made no sound and as they passed him he heard her laugh. The sound was clear, like a bell. Thranduil felt a tightening in his gut that he had not felt for many centuries.

The ladies' procession made their way to their chambers without further fanfare. They laughed freely and easily as each one imagined what new diversions their present accommodations might provide. The princess was called Anoria. She was a pretty girl of seventeen and she hoped it might provide a chance at romance. Her father loved her so well that when she was at home, she was scarcely away from his side. She hoped that this short, for it never occurred to her that their stay would be anything other than short, foray into Elven country would provide her with much needed amusement and perhaps affection.

Three of the ladies were sisters. Lucinda, Dorinda, and Belinda hoped for nothing beyond their own pleasure and amusement. They were sixteen, eighteen, and twenty, respectively, and up to this point, their life experience had endowed them with nothing that could be construed as compassion. They thought little for others beyond their circle and their chief concern was for their own comfort and diversion. They came from an old, though no longer particularly wealthy family in the countryside of Balinor. Their parents had hoped that a life at court might afford their daughters opportunities for betterment through an advantageous marriage. Nothing of that sort had materialized yet, but the girls were so fond of each other and so ready to be fond of anyone who was admitted into their society that they did not feel it as a loss. Surely the marriage of one of them meant that the three of them would be parted and that would be a very great loss indeed. The final lady, was called Brinya. The Elvenking's observations had been keen. She bore a very great resemblance to Princess Anoria. In fact, the two of them were half sisters. The illegitimate daughter of King Stephen of Balinor and a palace kitchen maid, Brinya's life had been an unpredictable one. She was dearly loved by her mother's family and she spent the early days of her youth in a tiny fishing village near a small sea. Grandfather had taught her how to make nets and hooks and how to read the onset of a storm in the color of the water.

Grandmother had taught her to bake crab cakes, and lobster cakes, and to batter cod to perfection. The village was so small that almost everyone was related somehow, so Brinya grew up among a myriad of distant cousins who loved and tormented her accordingly. Brinya's mother wasn't the first village girl to leave for work and come back in trouble, so she was a popular topic of conversation until she wasn't. As a child, Brinya would look up at the moon and wonder on long nights who her father could be. The moon seemed as likely as anyone because her small life had brought her into contact with so few unknown men. She couldn't imagine meeting anyone she would be willing to sacrifice her good name and marriage prospects to have, but she didn't blame her mother. She had a good life and she was grateful.

Everything changed the summer she turned nine. Her mother fell ill and when it looked like her recovery was unlikely a letter was dispatched to the palace. At the time, Brinya had taken no notice of the letter. She was much too occupied doing what she could for her mother and wishing that she could do more. A fortnight later, her mother was dead and Brinya felt a cold loneliness creep into her bones that she worried would never go away. It had never occurred to her that she wouldn't spend her life in this fishing village. She never dreamed that fate would take her away from the friends and family she had known and loved so well for all of her years. While she grieved her mother's death, she did her best to comfort the many others who felt her loss and to take over as many of her mother's domestic duties as she could.

Three days after the funeral, a man on horseback rode into the village. In itself, this was a noteworthy event because few in the surrounding area had the means for owning horses and all who did were known to the inhabitants of the village. This man was a stranger to them and they regarded him with a mixture of caution and awe. He wore fine clothes and carried a sword decorated with rubies at the hilt. He seemed important and sad. Eventually he tied his horse to a tree outside Brinya's cottage and with what seemed like trepidation, knocked on the door. Brinya's grandfather answered and resignedly asked the man inside. Brinya could hardly believe what was happening. There was a stranger in her cottage! This was by far the most exciting thing that ever happened. When she remembered that day in later life, she was glad she hadn't known what was happening. Her grandfather and the stranger spoke for a while in the kitchen. Brinya couldn't tell time and had no idea if the visit was short or long. Eventually, her grandfather called her to him.

"Brinya," he said putting his worn fisherman's hands on her shoulders, "this man is your father, King Stephen." Brinya gaped at him through an open mouth. She had heard of King Stephen of course, but she could never in her wildest dreams have thought that she would ever set eyes on him.

The king regarded her with his kind, sad eyes, "Hello, Brinya," he said as he tried to smile. "I'm so sorry about your mother." Brinya nodded, too numb to say anything in return. Why was he sorry about her mother? He hadn't seen her for years. He couldn't miss her the way Brinya and her grandparents would. It wasn't possible. As Brinya thought all these things, she became angry. She wanted this man to leave, but why was he here?

Grandfather's eyes filled with tears as he spoke, "He's come to take you away to a better life. You can have more than life here can offer."

"No!" Brinya cried, "This is my home. I won't go and you can't make me. This is the only life I've ever known. How can you ask me to leave it? Mother is gone. Haven't I lost enough already?" Tears streamed down her pink cheeks. Grandfather couldn't mean it. This was her home.

Grandfather's voice was gentle, but firm when he spoke, "You're meant for more than this, my girl. Out there, you can be educated. You'll have opportunities you could never dream here. You can become a proper lady."

"I don't want to be a proper lady," she wept, "I don't want education or opportunities. I want to stay here with you and Grandmother. I'll help you. I can do Mother's work."

Grandfather pulled her into a strong embrace and stroked her hair. "This is what your mother wanted for you. She wanted you to have chances she never did and to see and learn things she never could. She made us promise when the time came, we wouldn't keep you here."

Brinya tried to pull herself together. The mention of her mother brought fresh tears to her eyes, but she exerted herself to push them back. If this was what her mother had wanted, then she had to make an effort to obey her wishes. It would be the best way to honor her memory. Oh, how she wished she didn't have to go!

King Stephen knelt down and took one of Brinya's small hands in his own large ones. "I'm sorry that we're meeting under these circumstances," he said, "but I'm glad to meet you all the same. I know we don't know each other and I haven't been a father to you for all of these years, but things will be different now. You'll have the finest clothes and the best teachers. From now on, you'll live like a princess."

A new thought occurred to the girl. "Am I a princess?," she asked.

The king looked uncomfortable. "No," he said at length.

"Because I'm illegitimate?" asked Brinya. She had heard the other children talk. She knew what illegitimate meant. It hadn't mattered much until this point in her life. She was Brinya. Everyone knew her and she had place here. The circumstances of her birth were of no consequence.

"Yes," he answered, looking pained, "You can never be my heir, but you will be regarded as a noble of the highest standing. The ladies at court will fight to be your friends and when you are older the men will vie for your hand in marriage."

She would later learn that this wasn't strictly true, but at least her father had tried to make her feel better. Her appearance at court was somewhat polarizing. Some of the ladies regarded her as an outsider and resented her intrusion into royal life. Others felt compassion for her and treated her with kindness. Since she altered nothing in the way of succession, she posed no threat. There were certainly no men who vied for her affection, either when she arrived as a grubby nine-year-old or when she matured into a comely young woman. Without a dowry, her marriage prospects were poor. She didn't mind. In time she came to accept and even appreciate her new life. She learned reading, writing, dancing, the harp, history, geography, French, Latin, and even some fencing until the Queen Demelza determined it was too unladylike.

If Brinya had known more of the world, she might have assumed that her stepmother would be wicked, but she would have been wrong. If the queen didn't regard Brinya exactly as a daughter, she perhaps regarded her as an unfortunate niece who had been placed in her care. Demelza knew very well that Brinya had no claims to land, titles, or wealth, and she therefore stressed every opportunity to develop her personal attributes. They would be all the girl had to recommend herself when the time came to find a husband. For her part, Brinya was so good natured that she soon regarded her stepmother as a model for everything a lady ought to be. The queen was never cross and never raised her voice. She did not talk excessively and when she did her voice was musical and her anecdotes were amusing and didactic. She moved with graceful purpose and was unfailingly kind to those around her. The only time Brinya witnessed any meanness in her stepmother, it was for her own sake.

Not long after Brinya's arrival at the palace, she had been playing with some of the smaller children in the palace kitchen and had knocked over a pitcher of wine. One of the kitchen maids had called her a bastard, not knowing queen was within earshot. The poor woman hardly had time to register the sting of the slap on her face before she was seized by the hair and dragged into the courtyard. A manservant was called and instructed to beat the maid until the queen was satisfied that she had learned her place. She later recalled that the queen had said that disrespect to any member of the royal family was treason and treason was punishable by death. Brinya never forgot this incident. It reminded her how lucky she was to have the Queen Demelza as her friend instead of her enemy.

In time, the king and queen were blessed with a child of their own, a little girl named Anoria. Brinya regarded the birth of her little sister with such joy and treated the princess with so much uncommon affection that it would have been enough to melt any icy heart. Any reservations Demelza may have felt for her stepdaughter evaporated when she how well she looked after Anoria. The years passed quickly and quietly for the royal family. The daughters grew into lovely young women and new suitors arrived daily to beg for Anoria's hand in marriage. She refused them all and proclaimed that she would only marry for love. Her parents secretly hoped that love came with political ties and an appropriate pedigree, but their daughter was still young and they were in no hurry to part with her, so they made no mention of this.

As Brinya grew older and gradually came to understand that she would probably never marry, she began to take on pursuits less becoming to a lady. She renewed her childhood interest in fencing and took up archery and knife throwing as well. If she was to be denied the traditional female sphere of influence, then she would make her own sphere and influence where she could. The men at arms regarded her at first with suspicion and then with mockery. Was this a test? How were they supposed to continue their training with a woman? What if she got hurt? Would the king have their heads? As her fighting skills improved so did her skills at conversation with them and in time they came to regard this odd little unprincess, as they called her, with a brotherly affection. "My deepest apologies, your unmajesty," they would say if she was bruised during sword fighting or, "My humble regrets, your unhighness," if she was out paced in riding.

It was never officially discussed if Brinya should become one of Anoria's ladies in waiting. The sisters' natural affection for each other and Brinya's quiet easy temperament made her a natural choice for a companion. That she lacked an official title of nobility was cause for gossip only when visitors came from outside the kingdom. The royal family's affection for her was widely known and the court at Balinor regarded her as their own special darling. No one from Balinor would have been surprised that King Thranduil's gaze lingered on her a little longer than it needed to. After all, their Brinya was special and to a man who already possessed lands and title, she would make a fine bride.


	3. Hell Hath No Fury

A/N: Hey everyone! Thanks to everyone who reviewed, favorite, or followed the story.

Summary: In this chapter, Thranduil witnesses a spectacular display of ability and temper.

Disclaimer: Nothing is mine.

Chapter 2: Hell Hath No Fury

Thranduil watched with unabashed curiosity as Brinya, Princess Anoria's lady-in-waiting, used a scarecrow for target practice. He wondered absently how she came to obtain the specimen. There were no fields particularly near the palace. For her part, Brinya was aware she was being watched and she didn't care. Thranduil marveled not so much at her good aim, he had seen many talented knife throwers, but at her passion. He could feel the rage coming off of her in waves. It was intoxicating. After millennia on Middle Earth, his emotions had lost their vehemence. He no longer felt anger or sadness or joy in their full force. Mostly he felt cold detachment and disdain. He still felt a sense of duty to his people and their allies, but he no longer agonized about the how best to rule them. One day his son would take his place and he could make different decisions about how to run the kingdom if he chose. Until then, Thranduil would do the things he saw fit, as he always had.

It had been many years since he had entertained the thought of a wife or a mistress. Wife was a term the Eldar understood. He had a wife before she perished in the war against the serpents of the North. A wife meant a loving partner for life, which for an elf, was a very long time. Mistress was an Edain term. Thranduil did not like its connotations, but he understood its usefulness. A woman who would not, perhaps could not, agree to be his wife, might agree to be his mistress. It was not his nature to keep his love life private. He was a public figure and his people had a right to know a certain amount of what was personal to him. But he recognized that a mistress, especially an Edain one, would necessarily be a secret thing. He found the idea distasteful, but the longer he looked at Brinya, the more he was willing to compromise any and all of his principals if that was what it took to have her. He realized belatedly that what he was feeling was desire. It had been so long since he had felt anything that the Edain would call emotion that he hardly recognized it in himself. He watched her sink her daggers into the soft straw of her opponent again and again and he felt a deep longing in a place in his heart that he had long ago given up as dead.

Brinya felt the adrenaline coursing through her veins. She was so angry. She felt white fury pump through her body and her arms threw the knives on instinct, without pausing to think about where she was aiming. If she had been throwing them at a man, she would have killed him seven times before it was over. Of course, a man probably wouldn't be standing still or looking at her with a smile painted on his cloth face. She had been angry for as long as she could remember. It was life she was angry at, far more than any one person or deed. She was a bastard and that made her angry. She was never as good as the legitimate ladies at court. It didn't matter how much better she was at needlework or dancing or playing the harp. It didn't matter that she could fell any man with one blow with her knives or her arrows. It didn't matter how kind or patient or witty she was. She had no title or claim to land. That was all that mattered in her world. She wondered if it was all that mattered anywhere. She didn't know why the king was looking at her and she didn't care. She hated anyone who was part of this feudal system that kept her a dependent hostage to her sister's goodwill. Suddenly she turned around to make eye contact with him and just as suddenly turned back to sink a dagger into what would have been the jugular of the scarecrow if scarecrows had anatomy. It was a good thing for the palace maids that they did not. Thranduil was fascinated with this creature. The fury in her eyes and the ache in her heart made him long to draw her close. She was so alive and full of emotion. He wanted to remember what that felt like, if only vicariously. If she could make him feel again then he wanted to raise her to the heavens and make her his brightest star.

He was uneasy about how to approach her. Perhaps she would not relish his company. The fury she had displayed did not seem to be directed at any particular person or act. It was a sizzling rage that blanketed all aspects of her life. He would approach her tomorrow in the dining hall. Perhaps with music and wine to aid him he could melt enough of her icy exterior to glimpse what was truly in her heart. If he had the slightest inkling what she wanted, he would move mountains to attain it. He already felt a strange kinship with her. She was his complete opposite and he both loathed and envied the extreme love and hate she seemed to experience every day.

Brinya made her way back to her chambers drenched in sweat. She never meant to push herself as hard as she did. She always meant to stop before things got too out of hand, before she exposed her unladylike traits fully to the ridicule of others. She usually succeeded. For most of her life Brinya kept a tight rein on her emotions. She ruled them. They did not rule her.

The past few years had been difficult. When she was a younger woman, she had hoped to marry a nobleman. She had believed, as all young naïve women believe, that all that was truly needed to secure a loving husband was a good heart and a patient mind. This proved untrue. She had been approached by several gentlemen who wanted her for a mistress, but the thought disgusted her. The idea of crawling into someone's bed when they had promised to be faithful to someone else seemed to her the lowest kind of life. Her father had done his best to discourage offers of that kind, but since she was a bastard they couldn't be avoided entirely. Her father made it clear that in his mind she would always have a place in the palace and in Balinor. Her stepmother agreed and Brinya was so useful to her sister that the princess deemed her indispensible.

It wasn't enough. Her whole life was at the courtesy of others. If she stopped being useful to her sister or fell out of favor with her father, she had a claim to nothing of her own. For a while she thought of returning to the little fishing village of her birth. She didn't think too well of herself to be the wife of a fisherman. She was sure there were some good lads among them, but she wasn't the same person she was at eight years old. She had seen and learned too much to be content with such a small life now. The world was so big and such a tiny village would feel like a prison. She couldn't go back.

The older she got and the more she understood how the world worked, the more jaded she felt. She was still good and patient and kind, but not the way Anoria was. Anoria was good in the way only an innocent person can be good and she loved people in the way that only someone who hasn't been bruised by the world and its cruelties can love. She had no doubt that life would unfold all of its pleasures before her because she had no experience that told her it could be otherwise. Brinya loved her little sister, but there were times when she hated her, too. While her thoughts betrayed her more often than she liked to admit, her actions never did. She couldn't help feeling like life had dealt Anoria an unfairly good hand, but she never let it show in her attitude toward her. In all their interactions Brinya was anxious for her sister's comfort and well-being and eager to help in any way she could.

It never would have entered her mind that her life was about to change. She never would have believed that she could go from the bastard sister of an unimportant princess to the greatest love of an ancient and powerful king. It was too ridiculous.


	4. The Secret Garden

A/N: I'm expanding this piece as part of National Novel Writing Month, which means that hopefully it will be novel length by the end of November. The goal is to write 1700 words per day and I'll try to post as I write. Wish me luck!

Summary: Thranduil and Brinya talk in the garden.

Disclaimer: Still not mine.

Chapter 3: The Secret Garden

Brinya was absent mindedly tapping the table with her fork. A sharp look from Anoria let her know that this was very annoying. Suppressing a grin that she had actually managed to get under her normally saintly sister's skin, she put down the fork. She wasn't really hungry anyway. Eating Eldar food reminded her a little of drowning. It was quite pleasant once you stopped struggling to taste anything. If living forever meant eating food like this she thought she might not mind getting old and dying. The wine was another matter. It was delicious. For the most part, the elves were a restrained people. They only allowed themselves to overindulge at particular celebrations like the feast of starlight. Sadly, they had missed this year's festivities on that occasion, and Brinya prayed that they would be home in Balinor well before the next year's took place.

She had already drunk a bit more than was wise when she felt the king's eyes on her. She had felt him staring at her during her training and she wondered what he wanted. In her experience, when a man far above her station stared at her, he usually wanted something she wasn't prepared to give. She hoped that if she ignored him, he would go away. Shortly after dinner she saw him making his way toward her table. So much for hope.

He bowed gracefully before them, "Your highness," he addressed Princess Anoria, "I wonder if I might beg your indulgence."

A blush crept into her pale cheeks, "King Thranduil, I am happy to assist you in any way I can."

"May I borrow one of your lovely ladies? I have a special project that I think requires a young woman's touch."

"Of course. Any of my ladies would welcome an opportunity to be useful to you. It is the least we can do. Is it something I can help with?" She blushed a little at her own temerity. She would not normally offer to assist an eligible man so readily, but King Thranduil hardly counted as eligible in the usual sense. Although he was technically free to marry by human standards, it was said that elves rarely remarried and she only had to look at him to realize that there was no possibility of a courtship. He was perfection made flesh. His tall sturdy frame, his piercing eyes, his unearthly pale skin had all remained unchanged for millennia. He certainly hadn't come here to pay court to a minor princess like her. She couldn't say why, but something told her that he felt human women were beneath him. He had treated their little party with all the cold cordiality diplomacy demanded since their arrival, but she knew he disdained them. She suspected that if he ever thought about women, he must only think of his own kind. She would have been right, if he hadn't caught sight of Brinya.

"You are very gracious, but I would not wish to take up your valuable time with such a trivial matter. Perhaps Lady Brinya could assist me?" He had tried to sound as nonchalant as possible, but he wondered if his eagerness betrayed him. He had been out of practice at his game for so long. How did one attract a woman's attention without also attracting the attention of everyone else? He privately mused at his unease. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt uncomfortable or uneasy. This girl was already bringing up more emotions that he had felt in centuries.

"Of course," replied the princess, too surprised to refuse. No one particularly requested Brinya for anything and technically she wasn't a lady.

"You have my deepest gratitude," he said to Anoria and bowed again. Then he turned to Brinya, "If you would accompany me?"

She nodded once and followed him silently, carrying the voluminous folds of her skirt in her sweaty hands. She didn't like this. What task could he possibly have that would make him ask for her assistance specifically? If anyone else had heard his request, what would they think?

The palace at Mirkwood was large and they walked a good distance in total silence. At last they came to a large courtyard mostly overgrown with weeds. The king gestured for her to follow him inside. Curiously, Brinya entered, picking her way over the roots of giant trees that appeared to have grown unchecked for many years.

"What is this place?" she asked finally.

"It is a bridal garden. There is a custom among my people that when a man declares his intentions to a woman, he takes her to a garden that has become overgrown. If she is amenable, then the two of them get to know each other for the length of time that it takes for the garden to grow into full bloom. Only then does she give him her answer."

Brinya's head was spinning. There was no way this was happening. It wasn't possible. At first she had thought he was looking for a gardener. She'd thought this was an out of the way place and probably none of the elves were interested in fixing it up. She'd never done any gardening before, but she would have been willing to give it a shot. Nothing could have prepared her for this. A bridal garden? _King Thranduil_ , the most ancient, powerful, wealthy, and universally sexiest being alive, was asking her if she wanted to plant some flowers with him as an act of courtship. This was too weird.

Brinya wouldn't say she was accustomed to unkindness. Her family had raised her overwhelmingly with love and support, but as she'd grown older she had to contend with a certain degree of mistrust for other people. People outside of her immediate family and friends tended to see her as a means to an end. They tended to think that because she was of no birth and no fortune she could be used and discarded. She knew her father had tried to keep the worst of the disreputable proposals from reaching her ears, but she heard about them through the grapevine of palace gossip. Sometimes she was the last to know, but she always found out eventually. The worst one had come from a duke who offered marriage to his feeble minded son, but clearly intended her for his own use. The worst part was the sneering way he had insinuated that she should be grateful for the offer, and Brinya had realized with sickening clarity that he wasn't completely wrong. Someone of her standing couldn't really expect anything better.

She was waiting for the other shoe to drop. She was waiting for him to admit that he already had a wife and this was the kind of offer he would only make to a woman who was so far beneath him that she wouldn't dare refuse. That was what she was used to. It was what she was expecting, but it didn't come.

Her eyes suddenly filled with tears, "This is all wrong," she sputtered. "This must be a mistake. I am not a proper choice for a man of your standing." She surprised herself with her words. She never really believed that she deserved the hand that fate had dealt her, but here she was turning away her only chance at a better life because she thought she belonged where she was. For years, she had born the shame and ignominy of her birth with her head held high. For as long as she could remember, she had told herself that her actions counted for more than her pedigree. She was worth something. She was a good person. She deserved to be happy. She had done nothing to be ashamed of and she refused to be ashamed of being alive. She was glad she had been born, no matter what those circumstances were. In a just world, no one could possibly think less of her because of who her mother was. But the world was not just and she was judged everywhere she looked. Until this moment, she had never truly believed that she was less than other people, but now she wasn't so sure. Now here she was being courted by the most perfect suitor she could ever imagine and she was prepared to refuse him before he even began. She couldn't bring him shame by connecting her name with his. She wasn't nearly beautiful enough or clever enough or royal enough to do him justice. His reputation would never recover.

Seeing the tears in her eyes, Thranduil cupped her chin in his hand and held her in his unearthly blue eyes. There was a strange intimacy in the gesture that made her shudder, like he somehow knew her already. "Do you think I would make such an offer to someone who I believed could offer me nothing in return?" he asked.

She knitted her brow in confusion, "I do not know, my lord. I only know that you made the offer to me and that I have nothing, not even a name, of my own."

Thranduil smirked, a little condescendingly, "I have earned many names over many lifetimes. I believe I have enough for us both. You have your beauty and you bear a striking resemblance to the princess. That must be a currency of some value where you come from."

Brinya blushed, "It is the worst kept secret in the kingdom, my lord. Everyone knows my birth, but they are too afraid to speak of it."

"What are they afraid of?"

"Of my stepmother, the queen. I guess you could say she adopted me. She thinks of me as a daughter and she would let lose a murderous rage on anyone who suggested otherwise."

"I imagine she saw your true value and wished to claim you as her own. Do not assume that your gifts are worth so little. Everyone you meet sees your beauty and knows your kindness. I see your passion and it makes me want to feel again. It has been so long since I have felt anything close to human emotion. Once I felt things as men do. Elves are not gods. We desire and love and grieve. I have lived so long and I have loved and lost so much. My heart turned to ice a long time ago. Now I strive to melt that ice by standing close to you. I see the fury with which you make war against this life and I want to remember what that feels like. Do not rebuke me out of some misguided notion of sparing me pain. You spare me nothing. I feel nothing. No fruit tempts me. No wine offers me pleasure. No woman makes me feel desire, except you. Do you imagine that I require my wife to have fortune, a title, a name? What family or kingdom on middle earth could offer these things to me? There is not a treasury anywhere that could rival my white gems or a family anywhere whose name is as ancient and respected as mine. I am king here for eternity. I am the closest thing to a god your people will ever encounter. Yet I seek a comfort only you can provide. Only you can free me from this prison of apathy. I have become indifferent to this life. Challenge me. Force me to feel or I will fade away to nothing. All I ask is for you to consider my offer. Help me in the garden. Give me time to win your affections. When the garden is in full bloom, tell me if your feelings have bloomed as well. I will not hold you to any promises until then."

Speechless, Brinya turned to go. She wanted to get away from this place and from him as fast as her feet would carry her, but he caught by the arm.

"Do not imagine that my love comes without a price," he warned. "A thousand years ago I was a force to be reckoned with. My wrath was legendary and my goodwill sustained whole settlements for generations. If you accept it, my love will be jealous and consuming. I do not need a mouse. I need a woman with enough fire to burn the humanity back into me or I will freeze us both to death. Think about my offer. If you accept, come again to the garden. The way will be open to you and I will know if you return."


	5. A Decent Proposal

A/N: Thank you so much to my reviewers! SparklesJustReads and Oriana5, it's good to hear from you again! I think you guys are the only carryovers from my other story. Brinya is a little darker in this chapter. I wanted to peel back the layers of why she would consider being with someone like Thranduil and not all of her motives are pure.

Disclaimer: I own the ladies from Balinor and that's pretty much it.

Summary: Brinya considers Thranduil's offer.

Chapter 4: A Decent Proposal

Brinya made her way back to her quarters in a fog. She found the other ladies waiting for her in the common room.

"What did he want?" Lucinda asked immediately.

"Was it something disgusting, like cleaning chamber pots?" asked Dorinda.

"Or something boring, like reading to old blind ladies?" conjectured Belinda.

Brinya had to laugh, "Have you seen a lot of old blind ladies since we've been here, Belinda? In case you hadn't noticed, elves don't age, and I bet their eyes stay as perfect as the rest of them." She loved the sisters because, rather than in spite of, the ridiculous things they said. They provided so much entertainment.

Anoria spoke next, "What did the king ask of you? He seemed eager to have it attended by you specifically." Brinya wondered fleetingly if she should tell her sister everything. No, she decided, she couldn't. It was too unreal. She might wake up tomorrow to find that this had all been a dream, or worse, a cruel joke. She couldn't bear the shame if she told Anoria and it was all for naught.

"He wanted me to tend a garden," she said. It wasn't a lie. It was simply an omission of the truth.

Anoria raised her eyebrows in surprise, "But why you? Surely they have gardeners here."

"It's in an out of the way part of the palace. I suspect none of the servants are eager to be bothered with something that isn't likely to be useful." Again, not a lie, just not the whole truth.

"Can you manage?" asked Anoria, "I don't think I've ever seen you grow anything." Brinya coughed uncomfortably. Anoria was right. She'd never grown anything. It wasn't considered proper ladies work in Balinor to get dirty and even though she had defied many social conventions for the past few years, gardening hadn't been at the top of her list.

"I truly hope so," she said after a pregnant pause, "I don't want to make a fool of myself in front of the king." There. She had finally said something honest. "I think I'll go to bed now. It was a nerve wracking interview. Just being in King Thranduil's presence makes my hands shake. He's very imposing."

"And so tall," giggled Lucinda.

"And so beautiful," Dorinda chimed in.

"More beautiful than most ladies at court," cackled Belinda and the three of them burst into peals of laughter.

Anoria bid her sister goodnight. "You look a bit flushed," she said, "You don't have to do this, you know. If it… if he… if anything makes you uncomfortable, you are not obliged to participate in it. You don't need my permission to do what you think is proper."

Brinya squeezed Anoria's hand with affection. "Who is the older sister here?" she asked playfully, "I don't need you to look after me."

That night Brinya tossed and turned as she thought about King Thranduil's offer. She heard his voice in her head, "Help me in the garden. Give me time to win your affections." What did that really mean? The more she thought about it, the less sure she was that she was capable of genuine affection for someone outside of her own family. She had never been in love and if she was honest, she had never really had any close friends. Lucinda, Dorinda, and Belinda counted as family. They had known each other since they were little girls. She had never been very good at meeting people. She was shy, awkward in social situations, and not at all inclined to the girlish silliness people seemed to expect from an unmarried woman of a certain age. The person she was closest to in this life was Anoria. She couldn't imagine feeling that close to anyone else, but for the first time in her life she thought maybe she wanted to. Maybe she wanted a powerful man to want her. She had given up all hope of a decent marriage proposal a few years before. By her own people's standards she was simply too old. In Balinor, brides were young. Anyone willing to accept someone older probably had some serious drawback of his own, like a great many children to care for.

All her life people had looked down on her. All her life she had been illegitimate and unimportant. Now she suddenly had the chance to have everything that had always been out of her reach. As Thranduil's wife she would have almost unlimited influence at any court. When she returned to Balinor those who had scorned her would grovel at her feet. Ladies who had whispered ugly rumors about her would beg for her friendship. She would be fabulously wealthy. She had never seen the royal treasury in Mirkwood, but she heard it said that it contained white gems made from pure starlight. Perhaps Thranduil would give her a gem like that one day if she pleased him. That turned her thoughts in a different direction.

What if she didn't know how to please him? She had never been with a man. She knew the basic mechanics of it and she had heard plenty of talk at court, but she'd never done it herself. There had been one or two times she'd been tempted by a visiting ambassador's son or a new recruit in the palace guard. She wasn't afraid that it would be unpleasant. It was quite the opposite. She was afraid that it would be sweet and then that memory would haunt her on lonely nights for the rest of her life. She didn't intend to inflict more pain on herself. She had enough to deal with.

She tried to imagine what being with Thranduil would be like. He had said that he wanted to feel passion again, but was he capable? He was so cold. Looking into his eyes made her feel like she was looking at a frozen river, a place where there could be no life. She couldn't imagine what it would feel like to be swept up by him in a tender embrace, for him to press his lips to hers and hold her close. Would his lips be cold? She had never touched an elf. Did they give off body heat? She imagined that the rest of his body would be as perfect as his face. His skin was probably smooth and soft and he was probably well muscled. She couldn't imagine any further than that. She was afraid to.

She would accept his proposal. She would go to the garden and get to know him. Surely there was no harm in that. If she found that he was cruel or easily displeased, then she didn't have to go back. She only wanted to see what he was like, she told herself. She owed herself that much. She had been trying so hard for so long not to disappoint the people who loved her most. They believed the best in her in spite of everything. Her stepmother told her once that she was as fine as any lady at court and the fact that no man had proposed to her only proved that all men were fools. Brinya had cherished the compliment forever after. She had been so good and so proper for so long, but now she wanted something for herself. She wanted to be someone in the world's eyes and she wanted to have someone. She wanted to belong to someone important and to have him belong completely to her. She closed her eyes and imagined the pleasure she could experience with Thranduil in public and in private. She imagined the envious stares of women and the obsequious bows of men. She imagined him pressing his body to hers and showering her with the finest gowns and the most precious jewels. She would no longer be a bastard daughter from a little kingdom. She would be a queen.

Thranduil paced back and forth in the bridal garden. He couldn't sit still. He couldn't focus on anything. He hadn't heard a word his ministers had said to him this morning and he dismissed them all before lunch, saying that he had, "important affairs," that needed his attention. It was really only one potential affair, but they didn't know that. If he only knew if she would come to him, then perhaps he could focus on anything else. Suddenly he stopped pacing and let out a loud laugh. He didn't laugh often and the sound startled several pigeons who were nesting peacefully several yards away. He was feeling agitated, but the important thing was that he was feeling. Yes, it was uncomfortable, but it wasn't his normal numbness. He was actually finding his anxiety difficult to control.

"How do the race of men stand it?" he muttered.

"Stand what?" asked a voice from the doorway.

Brinya stood and looked in shyly at what appeared to be a private moment between the king and the pigeons. She looked lovely in a plain blue gown that highlighted her slim waist. "I'm sorry if I intruded," she said uncertainly, "I was under the impression that you wanted to see me again."

He cleared his throat, "There is no intrusion. I'm glad you have come, although I must admit I am somewhat at a loss for words. Yesterday I planned my speech very carefully. Today I find myself at a loss for words."

Brinya felt some of her unease dissolve, "I would never have imagined that I had the power to render you speechless, my lord."

"Even a king can be struck dumb by the presence of a beautiful woman," he said with a smile that reached all the way up to his eyes.

He really is pleased to see me, Brinya thought. "May I ask what you were thinking of when I came upon you?"

He waved his hand dismissively, "Agony," he said simply, "the kind of agony only a woman can inflict."

"My lord," she began apologetically, "If there is anything I have said or done," but he put up his hand to silence her.

"You have done nothing for which you should apologize. You have already made me feel something I haven't experienced in a long time."

She looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to continue.

He threw his head back and laughed a long mirthful laugh, "Embarassment. It has been a long time since I cared enough about anyone's opinion to feel embarrassed."

His laugh was pleasant and Brinya felt the knot in her stomach shrink, "I'm afraid that embarrassment is all I'll be feeling once you see my gardening skills."


	6. Something Wicked This Way Comes

A/N: Thanks to all my reviewers, followers, and favoritors.

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Summary: Brinya and Thranduil get dirty. Literally.

Chapter 5: Something Wicked This Way Comes

Brinya looked down distastefully at her dirt covered hands. She noticed King Thranduil's shoulders were shaking. He was laughing at her. Before she could think twice about it she picked up a clod of dirt and lobbed at his perfect face. It disintegrated before it hit him, spraying his pale skin and hair with tiny flecks of soil.

"Salt and pepper is a good look for you," she said, indicating the dirt in his hair. He only laughed harder and he didn't even seem to mind that he was dirty.

"When I suggested we get to know each other over gardening, I had no idea it would be so… difficult for you." Brinya might have felt insulted, but he was still laughing. It was hard to feel angry with him when he seemed so carefree. She couldn't recall ever seeing him so relaxed before. At least one of us enjoys being in the garden, she thought. He was so beautiful when he smiled that sometimes she had to look away from him. His perfection felt eerie and inhuman. He walked and talked like a human man, but there were times when it was painfully very obvious that he was something completely and disturbingly alien.

It was their third day working in the garden. A few rose bushes looked less choked by weeds at their roots, but otherwise they hadn't made much progress. Brinya was almost no help at all. She had no idea what to do and was too embarrassed to ask many questions. For his part, Thranduil had a vague idea of what should be done, but he seemed to enjoy watching her flounder more than giving her instruction. I hope this isn't a portent of what's to come in our relationship, Brinya thought grumpily. She stopped digging, shocked at her own thoughts. Where had that come from? She was pulled back to reality when she realized Thranduil was speaking to her.

"Will you be at the feast later?" she heard him ask.

"What feast?"

"The people of Mirkwood are gathering to welcome the delegation from Esgaroth. Normally we would not stand on such formality, but new leadership can mean new alliances. In this case, I hope to put new faces to my old allies."

She looked at him blankly, "Esgaroth?"

"Lake-Town," he amended, "It was known as Esgaroth in days gone by."

Brinya nodded. Sometimes she forgot how old Thranduil really was. He looked no more than thirty and she found it disconcerting that he would have been ancient when even her oldest relatives were born. Although she wasn't a diplomat she had a keen interest in politics, or at least she thought she did. She had only been permitted to learn a certain amount about such things. In Balinor, affairs of state were mostly run by men. She wondered if the same was true here in Mirkwood.

"What is your agreement with Lake-Town?" she asked.

Thranduil raised his dark eyebrows in mild surprise. He hadn't expected her to have much interest in the political mechanics of his kingdom. He was enjoying this conversation. People so rarely surprised him anymore. "Our relationship is primarily based on trade. We exchange wheat, poultry, and some of our wine for raw materials like wood, iron, and even some silver."

"You trade for wood?"

Normally he would have found that so many questions tried his patience, but coming from her they seemed charming. She was, after all, a foreigner, so he could not expect her to understand the intricacies of Mirkwood's foreign relations. "I know it seems strange that people living in a forest should look for an outside source for wood, but we do not defile the trees here. They are ancient and wise and we see it as our duty to protect them. The trees are a part of my kingdom just like the people are. I cannot see them desecrated to be used for firewood or carved into furniture."

"And the iron?"

"Just as we do not defile the trees, we likewise do not rape the earth. This is our sacred home. We do not ruin her body by digging for precious metals. If the earth wants us to find something, she will show it to us. The iron comes to us from the dwarf mines over the mountains. Lake-Town receives it as our intermediary for a price. I speak for many of the Eldar when I say that I would be happy to be relieved of a heavy purse if it means I can avoid dealing with the dwarfish merchants."

"It's admirable that you take such a personal interest in what goes in and out of your kingdom. I do not think we are so meticulous in Balinor. Speaking of which, is there any word from my father?"

Thranduil shook his head. "I've heard nothing from him but the letter you and your companions brought on your arrival. We are an isolated community here. Except for those we trade regularly with, we have little contact with the outside world."

"And even less with humans."

"Humans are… complicated."

"You find us distasteful." It wasn't a question.

"I find you unpredictable. When you've lived as long as I have, you learn that unpredictable can be dangerous."

"How long exactly, have you lived?"

"I am approximately 33,524 years old."

"Approximately?"

"I have a birthday coming up. I could be your great grandfather many times over. Tell me, is my age a source of concern for you?"

"It's not a concern now," she said, "but I don't know how I'll feel when you stay young and beautiful and I grow old and feeble. I think you would not want me then." Trying to lighten the mood she said, "Is my youth a concern for you? If elves live forever, you must feel a little like you are courting a toddler."

He smirked, "I admit that at first it was a little disconcerting, but our people mature at different rates. I am aware that among your people you are regarded as fully mature."

"It's true that I am fully grown. I don't know that anyone would describe me as mature. Anyway, I like to keep people on their toes. I don't have to live as long as you to know that predicable can also mean boring."

He pretended to be offended and gestured to fictitious guards, "Off with her head. The penalty for suggesting that I am not the most fascinating conversationalist in Mirkwood is death."

She laughed loudly. She hadn't known he could be funny. An uncertain silence followed. Thranduil cleared his throat and said, "It is possible that the delegates from Lake-Town may have news from Balinor. I doubt that they carry any personal communications from your family, those would no doubt be sent by a special messenger, but they may have some general news about the skirmishes on your borders."

Brinya smiled gratefully. She knew that she must seem desperate for news about her family, but she didn't care. Since her arrival at the palace at eight years old, she had hardly spent any time away from it. It was the only place she really thought of as home. It was maddening to think that something terrible could have happened to its inhabitants and she might not even know. A king, even great King Thranduil, thinking that she seemed desperate was the least of her worries.

"What do you know about my father's trouble with the Northern bandits?"

Again Thranduil found himself surprised, "In truth, I know only the information contained in his letter. He said that outlaws were troubling the merchants who traded along the border and that harm done without just cause to a Balinese person was considered an act of war by their government. Is there something else I should know?"

Despite the sun's warmth in the garden, she shivered. "I'm not sure. There are rumors, but not solid reports. I have heard tales of people returning to their homes after encounters with the bandits…," she trailed off, not exactly sure how to put what she wanted to say into words. She didn't want him to think she was a child, as if that could really be avoided. "They say that people come back different from encounters with the bandits. They say kind men become cruel. Wise men become foolish. Men who were brave are now cowards. My father says it's all just farmer's gossip, but I'm not so sure. What if there is something more sinister about these raiders? What if they are something beyond common thieves?"

Thranduil was deeply disturbed by what she told him. He didn't wish to alarm and he had no way of knowing if these rumors were accurate, but if they were, then he had a feeling he knew what these things, they were not men, were capable of. He would find out. If he was honest he didn't care much what happened to the people of Balinor. With the exception of Brinya and her family, he would be completely indifferent to watching them burn. But if this was the same evil he had encountered before, it would eventually spread into his land like a plague. He needed to find out if Brinya's rumors could be substantiated, and then he needed to ready his army to cut off the head of snake, before its venom poisoned them all.


	7. Army of Darkness

A/N: Readers be warned, this chapter ends on a cliffhanger.

Disclaimer: Still not mine.

Summary: Brinya learns about Balinor's enemies from Bard and we learn some disturbing truths about our favorite elven king.

Chapter 6: Army of Darkness

Brinya looked around the banquet hall nervously. She wasn't used to meeting new people. Thranduil had offered to introduce her to the master of Lake-Town, Bard. Speaking to him would be her best chance of hearing news from Balinor. She was desperate for news of her father's campaign against the Northern bandits, but sometimes no news was good news. Surely, if some tragedy had befallen the king or his guard, word would have reached her. Wine and music were flowing as dinner was winding down. Thranduil caught Brinya's eye and motioned her over to him.

"You seem to have quite captured his attention," Anoria commented.

Brinya blushed and mumbled that she would be back shortly. She still hadn't told her sister the true nature of her relationship with the elven king. She felt guilty for keeping secrets from her, but she also felt protective of the only real secret she had ever had. She was still confident that their courtship would come to naught and she wanted the memory of it to be hers alone.

Brinya pushed her way through the crowd of men and elves as demurely as she could. She wanted to make a good impression on Bard and she didn't want to look rude in front of Thranduil. He laid his hand on her shoulder for a trifle longer than was necessary when he introduced her to Lake-Town's master. It sent a subtle, but clear message to Bard. _She's mine._ Bard seemed nervous, but polite and he was happy to tell her everything he knew about Balinor and its conflict.

"They say the Bandits are growing bolder," Bard said with a scowl. "King Stephen is having a hard time pushing them back beyond his borders. At first, they were only attacking outlying villages, the ones that were too remote for reinforcement to arrive quickly. Now they're hitting some larger towns, closer to Balinor's core. King Stephen is mustering a standing army. I hope he marches in before the worst comes."

Brinya felt her heart constrict in her chest, "What does that mean?" she asked. "What is the worst?"

Bard looked nervously at Thranduil, silently asking how much he should share with her. Thranduil nodded and Brinya glowered. Why was he in control of how much information she received? This was her home and her family. She should be privy to every available piece of intelligence on how they were doing. She would speak to Thranduil about it later.

"No doubt you've heard the stories about strange happenings after the bandits ransack a village. It's not just the property they destroy. It's the people. Anyone who has the misfortune to meet them face to face comes away a different person. It's like their best qualities are burned out of them. The changes are subtle at first. Maybe someone who used to be patient is quick to anger. Someone who used to love music can't stand the sound. Slowly, the changes get more pronounced. Eventually, all the qualities that used to make someone human are erased. The things that are left have no compassion, no mercy, and no love. They cease to feel pain, which makes them hard to subdue. They can still be killed, but that's a hard thing to ask of farmers. These people have lived in the same communities for generations. Everyone knows everything about everyone else. It's like asking brother to kill brother. Often, the afflicted wreak a fair bit of damage before one of their own puts them down."

Brinya shuddered, "Puts them down? They are not dogs."

Bard gazed at her sympathetically, "No, they're not, but neither are they men. As the affliction worsens, a person stops eating, stops sleeping, stops speaking. They waste away until there's only a shadow left."

"That's a good thing, isn't it?" Brinya ventured timidly, "Shadows can't hurt anything."

Bard shook his head sadly, "These shadows can."

Brinya felt a buzzing in her head and bile rising in her throat. This was worse than anything she could have imagined. She forced herself to remain calm outwardly and to ask another question. She owed to her sister and herself to learn as much from him as she could. She didn't know when she would get another opportunity. "What about the bandits," she asked, "You speak only of the villagers they infect. Are they these same shadow creatures?"

Bard shrugged his broad shoulders, "We know next to nothing of the bandits themselves. Few who have seen them have lived to tell the tale and those that have spiraled quickly into madness. Their minds cannot be trusted."

Brinya glanced worriedly over at her sister's table, feeling like she had been away a long time and wondering how much of this conversation she should share with her. The table was empty. Anoria and her attendants must have retired for the evening.

Sensing her anxiety, Thranduil put his arm around her shoulders and indicated that she was free to go. Brinya nodded gravely at Bard and said, "Thank you so much for sharing what you know with me. As frightening as it was to hear, it is always better to know than to remain ignorant. I'll send word to my father and make sure he has all this information."

Bard managed a small bow and said, "It was a pleasure meeting you, Princess Brinya." Brinya was about to tell him that she wasn't a princess, but Thranduil hurried her away. His agitation was almost as palpable as her own. She doubted that this was what he meant when he said he wanted her to make him feel again. Suddenly she dug her heels into the floor to draw his rapid pace to a halt. Why was he so anxious? He wasn't a close friend of her father's. There was no way he was that worked about her family's welfare. He knew something else and he wasn't sharing.

"What do you know?" she demanded. Worry had dulled her sense of propriety. Diplomacy be damned. She needed to know what he knew. For a moment he was silent as he tried to decide between a lie that would let her sleep tonight and the ugly truth that would probably keep her awake until she had grandchildren.

"Please," she said softly, "Any information could be the key to helping my people. You mustn't be afraid that telling me something will upset me. My duty to my people comes first. I shall write to my father immediately. He may not know what he's up against."

Thranduil smiled a sad smile that didn't reach his eyes and reached out to stroke her cheek, "You are a princess by attitude if not by birth. I will tell you what I know. Forgive me." He dropped his hand and she felt like they were separated by a chasm a hundred feet wide instead of by a few inches of air. It was like he pulled away from her in spirit as well as form. "Do you know what is worse than death for an elf?"

She shook her head, "I've heard that some of your kind sail west when they feel this life no longer holds any joy."

He smiled his sad smile again and said, "My father, Oropher, sailed for the eternal lands many eons ago. The Eldar understand that there is more to death than the end of the physical life. We live so long and grow so weary that sometimes our minds are ready for eternal rest before our bodies. That is when we sail."

She waited for him to continue. This was interesting, but it had nothing to do with what was happening to her home.

"Do you know what happens to us when we should sail and do not? We fade. Do not mistake me. We do not fade into nothing, into empty space. We fade into darkness, into shadow. We do not cease to be. We become shadows of what we were."

Brinya inhaled sharply. She hadn't fully understood what Bard had been trying to tell her until now. Now she knew what he meant when he'd described shadows who could hurt people.

"Wraiths," she whispered, "You fade into wraiths. That was why you wanted me to make you feel again. You felt like you were fading and you knew what you would become if you didn't sail."

She looked at him with revulsion, "You bastard. You didn't care about getting to know me. You just cared about not turning into a soul sucking ghost. You stay away from me."

He reached for her and she flinched away from him. "Brinya, please," he loathed the note of pleading in his voice, but he couldn't lose her. He would beg if he had to. "It wasn't like that. I do want to get to know you. I care about you. Don't you understand? It had to be you."

"Why? Why couldn't it have been someone else?"

"Because you are the only one who makes me feel. No one else drives to exasperation or anxiety or love. No one else arouses any kind of emotional response in me. I only feel for you." He waited for a moment to see if his words had the desired affect and then without warning he pulled her close. It had been millennia since he had kissed anyone. The Eldar regarded physical affection as an act of intimacy and they treated it with appropriate seriousness.

As he kissed her he felt what he imagined was strangely human. There was desire. He immediately recognized that emotion. When was the last time he had desired a woman? He couldn't remember. The other feeling was deeper and darker and it took him some time to uncover it. It was the urge to subdue her, to bend her to his will. It was the desire for dominance in spirit as well as flesh. Sometimes kissing was also the best way of silencing. Involuntarily he thought about the ruined flesh on the right side of his face. He was mostly able to keep the old injury hidden by a strong force of will and magic. Sometimes, when he was very tired or very distracted emotionally, it could become visible. Although he had told her he was in danger of becoming a wraith, she had no idea how close he really was. He wondered if she would ever willingly kiss him again if she saw his true form. He doubted it.


	8. Bard of Lake-Town

Summary: Brinya and Anoria talk to Bard. Then they talk to each other about him.

Chapter 7: Bard of Lake-Town

The next morning Brinya caught Bard's eye as he was finishing breakfast. She made certain to formally introduce her sister to him, "Master Bard, may I present her royal highness, Princess Anoria of Balinor." He had mistaken her for the princess the night before, and she wanted to disabuse him of this notion before it got either of them into trouble.

He kept his composure and when he kissed Anoria's hand Brinya imagined he held it to his lips a trifle longer than was necessary. "It is an honor to meet you, your majesty," he said.

Anoria practically swooned on her feet, but recovered herself sufficiently to reply, "The honor is mine, Master Bard. I understand that you made my sister's acquaintance last night. She told me of your discussion and we've come to you for advice."

"I'm hardly the right man to offer advice on matters of state. I'm only the master of Lake-Town by default. I'm not from a noble family and I've had little in the way of formal education. Surely King Thranduil could offer you better counsel."

Brinya spoke up, "King Thranduil is very wise, but his knowledge of current events is limited. Mirkwood is a safe haven from news as well as attacks. I'm sure he will offer us whatever advice he can, but you are a man of the world. What do you think is the best way to protect our kingdom? How can we get word to our father to give him information which is both urgent and sensitive?"

Anoria chimed in, "We've had no letters from him since we sought sanctuary here. We're worried that a letter given to a simple courier would be intercepted by those who would seek to profit from its contents. On the other hand, sending a trusted guard to carry a simple letter would certainly alarm our father and likely raise the suspicions of his advisors as well. We do not wish to cause unnecessary alarm, only to prepare our people for what they may be up against, if they are not already informed."

Bard thought silently for a long moment, "Give the letter to me," he said at last. I believe I know the proper channels to assure it reaches your father timely and without causing undue commotion."

Brinya was so grateful she almost cried. Thranduil had been very kind, but she wasn't sure he could help with this particular matter. "We are most grateful for your assistance," she said earnestly, "We will be sure that our father knows that he may count the people of Lake-Town as his friends." They returned to their chambers arm in arm and immediately sat down to write to King Stephen. Once it was accomplished, they dispatched Belinda, Dorinda, and Lucinda to deliver it to Bard.

Once they were gone Anoria said casually, "They are the most amiable creatures, but their constant chattering wears on me sometimes."

Brinya grinned, "Only sometimes? You are a good deal kinder than me."

Anoria put aside the needlework she had laid in her lap and fixed her intense gaze on her sister. "Brinya, tell me, what did King Thranduil want last night?"

Brinya felt like a child who had been caught in a lie. Her face grew hot. "I already told you. He wanted to introduce me to Bard so I could ask for news."

"Yes, but I mean why did he want you? If he was only being kind and providing us with news, why didn't he send for me? It would have been more typical."

Brinya noticed that she said typical instead of appropriate, which is what she meant. She could not meet her gaze. Perhaps it was time she told someone the truth. She couldn't keep telling herself that this wasn't really happening. "Last night he really did want me to meet Bard, but I haven't been completely honest with you where he's concerned." Brinya was expecting her sister to reproach her for acting without thinking and risking her reputation, but Anoria leaned forward and clapped her hands like a child getting a puppy.

"I knew it!" she exclaimed, "I knew there was something going on between the two of you. The other girls wouldn't believe me. They said I was reading too much into it and you were just trying to be useful to our host, but I knew something was going on. I command you to tell me everything."

Normally Brinya didn't like being commanded to do anything, but she was willing to make this exception. She told Anoria about Thranduil's garden, their ritual courtship, the angry words they had exchanged the day before, and about their kiss."

Anoria listened with rapt attention and said, "I always knew that someone special would want you for his bride, but I never could have predicted this. I thought it would be someone like Captain Laurent."

Brinya picked up a ball of yarn from beside the bedside table and chucked it at her sister, but her shoulders were shaking so hard with laughter that it missed its target. She couldn't speak for several seconds. When she recovered herself enough she gasped, "Captain Laurent! That's disgusting! How long have you been imagining me with that old man?" He was a friend of their father's and the head of the castle guard. He had always been kind to Brinya and she knew he was fond of her, but she had always assumed it was in a completely platonic fatherly way. She made noise like she was gagging, "I think I'm going to be sick."

Anoria picked up the yarn and threw it back at her, "He's not that old. We've seen happy matches made with greater age disparities."

Brinya eyed her skeptically, "Name two."

"Aunt Esther and Uncle Brian are twenty years apart in age."

Brinya consented and held up a finger, "That's one. Name another one."

Anoria thought about it, but nothing came to her mind. "Alright, I can't think of another one. Isn't one example sufficient?" Brinya snorted. Clearly, she didn't think so. Anoria continued, "How can the idea of Captain Laurent disgust you when you're courting Thranduil? He's ancient."

Brinya thought about it, "Yes, but he doesn't look ancient and he doesn't always act it. Captain Laurent looks and acts every bit of fifty."

Anoria waved her hands, "Enough about _your_ prospects. Let's focus on more important things. Like _my_ prospects."

Brinya laughed. She was expecting her to say like the legion of the damned that's raiding our homeland, but sure. They could talk about her potential suitors, too. "Who exactly are your prospects?" she asked.

Anoria shrugged, "Father has letters from the heirs of a few small kingdoms. He's had plenty of offers from second sons, some from very distinguished and wealthy families. There are a handful of Balinese nobleman he could benefit from a closer relationship with, but I think it will probably be someone foreign. Those alliances are harder to forge and he has only me to bargain with." Brinya winced. It was true of course. A marriage to her would hardly constitute a royal alliance. It would earn the king's goodwill, but it would never make someone a full fledged son-in-law. Realizing what she had said, Anoria tried to backtrack, but it was too late. "That came out wrong. I didn't mean it like it sounded."

"It's alright," Brinya said, "You're right. He does only have you to bargain with. Marrying me is no bargain at all." Things could have gotten uncomfortable, but she changed the subject. "What did you think of Master Bard? He's very handsome."

"Is he?" Anoria asked, pretending not to be interested, "I didn't particularly notice."

Brinya burst out laughing, "You're a terrible liar," she said, "It's one of your most endearing qualities."

Anoria bit her lip and chose her words carefully, "Do you think we'll ever see him again?"

"I think it's possible. Lake-Town is the closest human settlement to Mirkwood. I believe that King Thranduil does almost all his trade through it."

"Oh, I didn't mean here. I hope we shall see more of him while we are here, but do you think we could ever see him again once we return home?"

Brinya thought about it, "I suppose it's possible. I'm sure he and Father could discuss some manner of foreign relations. After all, he is the master of a large town. A master is not quite a king, but it could be a reasonable pretext."

Anoria giggled, "Now you sound like Mother. A reasonable pretext for what?"

Brinya sighed in exasperation, "To visit you, silly. If you were any other girl, he could simply ask Father or Mother for permission to call on you. No one would be surprised that an eligible man wanted to make your acquaintance better, or even better himself through a closer acquaintance with our family, but you are a princess and there are other considerations."

"What are they?" Anoria asked.

Brinya couldn't tell if she was playing dumb or actually completely ignorant on the subject. "They're primarily political considerations. The crown must consider the welfare of the state as well as your happiness when it comes to finding you a husband. You may like Bard best, but what if a marriage to a Beringian prince would prevent a conflict?"

Anoria thought silently for a moment. She had been a happy and content girl all her life. It had never before entered her mind that she wouldn't live the rest of her days a happy and content woman. She had never even considered the possibility that her heart's desire and her family's obligations could be in the least bit imperfectly aligned. Brinya didn't know what to say. Although in many ways she was bitter about the circumstances of her birth, in other ways she knew that she was fortunate not to be heir to a throne. Her suitors would never make pretences at affection for personal gain. She never had to worry that any man would want her for anything other than herself because she had only herself to offer. Anoria would have to be much more guarded with her heart. Suddenly she smiled a genuine smile and the time for serious reflection seemed to be over, "Do you really think he could come to see us?"

Brinya nodded, "Of course I do. I'll mention it to Father the next time we see him." Anoria's radiant smile made Brinya glad, but she also worried about her little sister. Ruling a kingdom was a hard business and some people would take Anoria's honest kindness as weakness. Brinya knew there would be tribulations and hard times ahead for her, even if Anoria didn't know it herself.


	9. May Day Queen

A/N: I wasn't exactly sure where to take this story next, so immediately my mind went somewhere dirty, and I don't mean the garden this time.

Disclaimer: I do not own LotR, The Hobbit or any of these characters.

Pairings: Thranduil/OC

Warnings: This chapter is PG, but I expect the next one to be more graphic.

Summary: Thranduil thinks that Brinya might have an interest in Bard. He decides to do something drastic.

Chapter 8: May Day Queen

Thranduil had watched Brinya's conversation with Bard that morning with something akin to jealousy. It had taken him some time to pinpoint the source of his agitation and he had yelled and thrown things at several minor officials before he realized why he was so upset. He supposed that Bard was attractive for a human. It was possible that Bard had certain qualities a young woman from Balinor might find appealing. The moment he realized it, he looked down to find that he had completely snapped the quill he was holding in half and his hands were covered in black ink. He sighed and went to clean himself up. He needed to do something. He needed to make sure that Brinya thought of him and only him when it came to love, marriage, and physical intimacy. He needed to make a big play for her heart. Snatching up the broken quill, he penned her a note in his elegant slanting hand, "If you would have your heart's desire, meet me tonight at midnight in our garden. Tell no one where you have gone."

Brinya was jittery all day. She had managed to conceal the note from her well-meaning companions, but try as she did, she couldn't ascertain its meaning. What exactly was her heart's desire, and if she didn't know, how did Thranduil? Did she want to be queen, to be loved, to be valued? She wanted all of these things, but which one did she want most? What if he was wrong? She wasn't sure he knew her better than she knew herself. He was so arrogant. What if he really thought he was doing something wonderful for her, but she didn't like it? This was such a complicated request. It seemed simple, but it wasn't. Nevertheless, she made up her mind to go to the garden and see him. Perhaps if he told her what he thought she desired and he was wrong, she would have a chance to correct him.

To her surprise, she found him waiting for her outside the garden entrance. "You came," he said, looking pleased with himself, "I wasn't sure you would."

"Yes you were. Otherwise you wouldn't have wasted your time waiting."

"I had hope. Hope and faith are not the same."

"They are if you're fortunate."

"Are you fortunate, Brinya?"

The seriousness of the question took her by surprise. Gone was the joking banter. Gone was the goading glint in his eyes. He seemed to want an honest answer. "Yes, I'm very fortunate in many ways."

He nodded, "It's good that you think so. People often are not grateful for what they have until it is too late. Will you come with me?" He offered her his hand.

She hesitated, "Where are we going? Your note said to come if I wanted my heart's desire. How do you know what my heart desires?"

Thranduil's seriousness melted away and was replaced with an impish smile. He clapped his hands together and said, "I knew you would find that part intriguing! You desire what most of us do, to do something unexpected and exciting. To take charge of your own destiny. After all, some rules are made to be broken." She didn't look convinced. "Don't worry," he assured her, "No one will get hurt and we won't do anything dangerous. I simply wanted to show you some parts of my kingdom that are off limits, except to those of us who know how to sneak into them."

"You're the king. Surely you could just declare them not in limits."

"But that wouldn't be any fun. It's the thrill of the doing something forbidden that makes it exciting. Come on, we don't have all night."

Actually, we kind of do, she thought as she followed him.

"Where are we going?" Brinya asked irritably. They'd been walking for at least an hour and her feet were starting to hurt. She was wearing some Eldar-made shoes she'd picked up after their arrival. They seemed comfortable at first, but they didn't provide much arch support.

"Be silent," he commanded, "It's not much farther and you'll know it when you see it. I don't want to ruin the moment with idle conversation." She was itching to know where he was taking her, but she kept quiet. She trusted him when he said it would be worth it.

At last, the woods gave way to a clearing. In the clearing was a crystal clear waterfall that ran down moss covered rocks in a gentle rhythm. It pooled into a placid lake where the calm surface reflected the waxing moon and stars. It seemed to her that she could see every star in the heavens out here. There was no artificial light to drown out their brilliance. There was smoke from fires to obscure them from view. There were so many of them and they were so beautiful, but they paled in comparison to the man beside her. His pale skin reflected the moonlight and he seemed to sparkle in the dark.

He spoke for the first time since they entered the glade, "Do you know what this place is?" She shook her head, her power of speech still lost. I don't think I know what anything is right now, she thought. He took several steps toward her, his long stride almost bringing him close enough to touch. In Balinor, her height intimidated many men, but he was at least half a foot taller than her. This was really happening. The Elven King was standing this close to her. She could feel his hot breath on her face and smell its sweet odor. She realized he still smelled like the wine from dinner. The thought was so random that she almost laughed out loud. She wondered if there was anything else about him besides his breath that wasn't perfect.

His grey eyes bore into hers and she could feel him trying to bend her to his will. Women didn't refuse him. She wasn't even sure that she wanted to refuse him, but she wasn't sure she was ready for whatever this was. She couldn't breathe. Before their departure, the queen had led them through a crash course in Eldar customs in the vain hope that it would save them from making fools of themselves at Thranduil's court. Brinya couldn't remember most of it, but Elven marriage customs had stuck in her mind. Maybe she had some preternatural inkling that information like that might be useful to her. She recalled reading that the Eldar viewed physical intimacy as marriage. If two people went to bed together, they were husband and wife. If she did this, she would be Mirkwood's queen. Her head spun. She needed to be sure this was the right thing. Sure, she wanted him. She would have to be blind or dead not to want him. He was _Thranduil_. But, was she ready to say yes to forever with someone she had only known for a few weeks?

"What's wrong?" he whispered, pushing an errant hair back behind her ear, "I can feel your anguish. It's such a strong emotion."

She clenched her jaw against the tears that threatened to fall. "I'm not sure that this is what I want. I mean, I want it, but I'm not sure that I'm ready."

Confusion clouded his perfect features. "Am I not the one you want?" he asked. "Does your heart belong to someone else?"

She shook her head violently. She was so embarrassed. Of course he would assume there was someone else. She was so stupid. "It's not that," she said quickly, "I know of the marriage customs of your people. I am not sure that I'm ready to commit to such a monumental decision without my family's knowledge and approval."

He regarded her skeptically, "So you wouldn't rather be with Bard?"

She coughed violently, "What? Bard? No. Why would you think that?"

He almost looked sheepish, "I saw you talking to him today and wondered if perhaps he struck your fancy. He seems pleasant enough for an Edain."

Brinya decided to ignore that last part. "It was Anoria who truly enjoyed talking to him. I was merely there to encourage the flow of conversation."

He reached up and gently stroked her cheek, "Then your feelings toward me have not changed?"

She smiled a sad smile that didn't reach her eyes, "Of course they haven't. I don't even think I could change them if I tried, but I want to be sure that you won't regret this decision."

He smirked, "Do you think I'm so fickle?"

"Not fickle, no. But I worry that when you look at me you only see the good things. We humans are imperfect and in time you might come to regret a decision made without prudence."

"How did someone so young become so wise?" he asked.

"My only wisdom lies in knowing that I am ignorant of many things."

His eyes twinkled with amusement, "I will remedy your ignorance on at least one subject tonight. Humans have the strangest notions about love. For us, physical love and marriage are one and the same."

"Marriage?" she choked.

"Be calm. That is not exactly why I have brought you here tonight. This is the Everwood. Elves often come here when they wish to… consummate their relationships." She flicked her gaze back over the glossy lake. She was a lot less excited about getting in there now. If he noticed her change in demeanor he didn't comment. "Most nights of the year, a love consummated in the Everwood seals a bond between two beings for life. Every night, in fact, but one. Do you know what tonight is?

She thought back to when they had arrived here. How long ago had it been? Three weeks? Four? She couldn't be sure. The days all ran together in Mirkwood. Without news from other kingdoms time was a blur here. She shook her head.

"Tonight is Beltane."

"May Day?"

"To my people, Beltane is a sacred holiday. It signifies many things for us, but the most popular is trial marriage."

"Trial marriage?"

"Normally Elven marriages are for life. We live a very long time so choosing a partner is not a decision we make lightly. Sometimes a couple feels like they need to get to know each other on a deeper level than conventional courtship allows before they can come to a decision about marriage. In these cases, the couple enters into a trial marriage, which lasts a year and a day. The couple lives exactly as any other married couple and after a year and a day they decide if they want to be permanently bound to each other. Trial marriages begin and end only on Beltane."

Brinya thought about it and realized that her mind was already made up.


	10. Beltane Wedding

Disclaimer: Surprise! I don't own anything.

Pairings: Thranduil/OC

A/N: I'm updating the rating of this chapter to M. It contains sexual content. If that's not something you want to read, then skip ahead to Chapter 10.

Summary: Thranduil and Brinya start their trial marriage with a bang.

Chapter 9: The Wedding Night

Thranduil held her gaze, "Is this what your heart desires most, my lady? Do you want to be my queen?"

Brinya felt like her world was spinning. Of course she wanted to be queen. Of course she wanted him. She could hardly wrap her mind around the fact that this was really happening. Human marriage was all about ritual. There was the ceremony in the church, the reception afterward for friends and family, and then the wedding night. Apparently elves skipped right to the wedding night part. There were no witnesses and no vows. A blush kept creeping into her cheeks. She had never been alone with a man who wasn't related to her. What would her father and stepmother say when they found out what she had done? Would they be proud of her for taking initiative and finding her place in the world or would they be ashamed of her for not waiting for their consent?

He took her hand, "You're trembling," he murmured softly as he pulled her toward the water. "Your sense of propriety will not keep you warm on cold nights. What you feel for me and what I feel for you is not wrong. It is the closest to right I have felt for a long time. If this is what we both want then there is no shame in it. You will be mine and I will be yours until the next Beltane when we will make our final decision."

She shivered and stepped closer to him. She had never seen anyone so lovely and she knew that she would never have another chance like this. She stood on her tip toes and for once she was glad she was tall. She pressed her lips to his, gently at first. Soon the kiss grew hungry and he ran his tongue over her lips. She let him lead her through the waterfall and into the lake. This was the point of no return.

Soon there were no thoughts, only sensations. For once he radiated heat and she pressed herself into him. Thranduil trailed hot kisses down her jaw, stopping to pay particular attention to her neck. She ran her hands over the taut muscles of his back as she flicked her tongue over pointed end of his ears. She heard him gasp in pleasure. She desperately wanted to please him. She wanted him to remember this night like she always would, like a dream that was meant for someone else. Things like this didn't happen to her. They happened to ladies with lands and titles and birthrights.

She wanted to touch as much of him as possible at once. She wrapped her legs around his waist and pressed her entire upper body against his. He groaned. He wanted her so much and not just for tonight. He wanted her to bear his children. If he had been thinking he would have realized how odd it was. He had brought her here on this night because he didn't want to frighten her away with a lifetime commitment, but here he was wishing he could trap her into being his forever. Did that make him a monster? He didn't have much time to dwell on the philosophical. She was slowly stroking him with her hand. Thranduil fought the urge to come on her hand like a schoolboy. He wanted to make their time together last. Gently, he uncurled her legs from his waist and led her behind the waterfall. There was a shallow cave that he had carefully laid with candles and blankets.

"You really planned this out, didn't you?"

"A king should always be prepared."

"What if I had said no? Would you have brought someone else here?"

He laughed loudly from his gut. "Edain are such jealous creatures and you have good reasons to be. The infidelity of your race is legendary. No, if you had refused I would have brought these here unnecessarily."

He laid her down gently on her back and began to trail his hot mouth down her belly, but she grabbed a fist full of his luscious hair and pulled his mouth back up to hers. "You're too far away," she panted, "I want to feel every inch of your skin on mine." She guided him to her slick entrance. He pushed the tip of his shaft inside her and she cried out. He was well endowed. In another stroke he was fully inside her and she moaned in ecstasy and breathed in his scent. Being this close to him was almost unbearable. Here he was in all his perfection and he wanted her. He chose her. The rhythm was slow at first and he withdrew completely before filling her again with his full girth. Her insides stretched to accommodate him and she was vaguely aware for a moment that she would be sore in the morning. She lost herself in the sensation. When she felt ready to crash over the edge she pulled him close to her lips and whispered, "Come with me." It sent him over the edge as he erratically ground his hips against hers and pounded into her with all his strength. He spilled his seed inside her, babbling in his own language, " _Tonight will be the first of many. You will be my true bride_." She thought it sounded beautiful even though she had no idea what the words meant.

The next morning she woke with the sun streaming in. The candles were long extinguished and Thranduil was gone. She wasn't sure how she felt about waking up alone. If she was honest with herself she mostly felt relieved. She was sure that he woke up looking just as perfect as ever and she was equally sure that looked like a mess. She felt around for her nightgown and headed out of the forest. He could come back and get the candles if he wanted. She was a little worried that someone would wonder why she was out of her room in a nightgown, but no one offered her a second glance. This is the upside of being plain, she thought. This is the reason I'm glad not to be beautiful. If no one notices you, you can mostly do as you like. If I was Anoria, at least four people would have asked me why I'm not dressed. She fought back a grin the rest of the way back to her chamber. She put on a tunic with leggings and riding boots. She'd gotten used to occupying herself by helping out with chores around the palace. She could empty chamber pots to perfection and scrub floors with the best of them, but today she wanted to do something different. She wanted to do something more useful. She found her way to the courtyard starting practicing her knife throwing. Most of guards were men, but Captain Tauriel was a woman and Brinya was glad she hadn't been barred from continuing training because of her gender.

She could never hope to achieve the grace of an elf. They moved like dancers with deadly choreography. The best she could hope for was efficiency. She was proficient with a bow and she could fight with a sword if she had to, but she was best with a throwing dagger. She liked the idea that even if she failed to impale her target, she would most likely cut them with the blade.

Thranduil watched her from the balcony of his study. She was clumsy compared to his kind, but he could not take his eyes from her form. She captivated him utterly. He watched as she threw the dagger again and again at the stuffed effigy. She corrected her aim by increments when she missed until she hit the target perfectly again. Sometimes he admired the determination of the Edain. Their lives were so short and pointless and many of them lived in poverty and disease, but they got up every day and went about their business. They did not let the futility of their existence keep them from their daily tasks. Sometimes he felt his long life stretch out before him like road that melted into the horizon. Immortality was a burden, but he could not imagine the fear that must come part and parcel with a mortal life.

He had been at a loss for how to proceed this morning. In the end in had simply slipped away. He thought that perhaps she would prefer to be left with her thoughts and come and find him at her leisure. Even after all his years, he still had little insight into the feelings of women. Would she have relished waking up with him at her side? Would she have regretted her actions last night? He had been trying to be considerate, but he saw now that she might take his absence as a sign that he didn't truly care for her. Damn it. Why did this have to be so complicated?

He was even less sure of the best way to inform her companions of their union. He knew that trial marriages were an Eldar custom they were likely unfamiliar with. Would they be angry? Would they feel that he had cheated them by spiriting their beloved away? He had, of course. He could have asked her to meet him in the middle of the day and to bring her sister and her friends. He had chosen to meet in secret under the cover of darkness. He felt a little guilty because he knew that some part of her judgment had been clouded by lust, but only a very little. The thought of her desire for him made him shiver. The night before had been the most exquisite he had known in many centuries. Elven women were usually relatively docile during sex. It was their nature. Elves tried hard to raise their children in peace and tranquility from the point of conception. He had heard that humans were different and last night had confirmed the rumors. He ran his fingers through his long tresses as he thought about the way she had pulled his hair and raked her nails over his back. She had practically driven him mad with her encouragement _not_ to be gentle. His life had not always been entirely free from passion, but he had long ago accepted that his coldness was part of his personality. It had gotten worse over time and he could no longer remember the exact moment when he realized that he could not, rather than would not, feel anything. Nevertheless, he soldiered on. He did not belong to the race of men, after all. Elves feel many emotions, but they are not ruled by them. His dispassion seemed to serve him well as a ruler. He made decision based on reason and calculation. His enemies knew it made him dangerous.

Eventually Brinya finished her training for the day and went back to her chambers to change. She decided she would feel more comfortable looking for Thranduil when she smelled less like a sweaty hog. He was surprised at how empty the courtyard felt without her. He thought back to their passion the night before and remembered what he had whispered afterward. He wasn't sure what had possessed him to say it and he was confident she hadn't understood.

The custom of the true bride was an old one and it hadn't been enacted for longer than even Thranduil could remember. It was rare for the Eldar to marry outside their race, but when they did it inevitable ended in heartbreak. Eldar live forever. Other races don't. According to legend, the ceremony of the true bride arose out of one elf's grief for his lost Edain wife. He declared that no one else needed to suffer as he did because there was a way to accept moral beings into the immortal fold. The ceremony was relatively simple. If an elf and a mortal spouse felt that they belonged together for eternity, then their souls were joined. The mortal's soul effectively became bound to the immortal's soul and one could not die without the other. These unions did not always end happily. After thousands of years, Thranduil could understand how someone could come to long for death. Elves usually sailed to Valinor when they felt thus, but a mortal would have no kin in the eternal lands. A mortal who had lived far longer than a natural life might long to be reunited with long dead friends and family in their own afterlife. When this was the case, someone had to make a sacrifice. Either the Eldar had to forsake the eternal lands to go with mortal souls to wherever they went, Thranduil didn't know much about such things, or the mortal's soul had to come to Valinor and accept that they would never be reunited with those from their mortal life. Sometimes the cure was worse than the disease.

Thranduil was certain that he wanted Brinya for his true bride. He wanted her by his side forever. Now all he had to do was convince her.


	11. A Vote of Confidence

Chapter 10: A Vote of Confidence

Brinya sighed and laid the quill down beside the blank page. She had retreated to her chamber with the intention of changing clothes and going to find Thranduil, but she found herself procrastinating by trying to write a letter to her parents instead. She had no idea how she was going to explain this to them, or anyone else for that matter. She hadn't even told her sister yet. What was she going to say?

 _Dear Father,_

 _I'm writing to tell you that King Thranduil asked me to marry him last night. Rather than waiting for your consent, I decided to jump straight into bed with someone I hardly know. Don't worry, it's not permanent. We have a year to decide if we like each other. I hope having a son-in-law who's older than your grandfather won't bother you. Just think of all the wonderful gossip the match will cause at court. The bastard no one thought would amount to anything is now the most important queen in the realm. Please give my love to my stepmother and I hope that you are both well._

 _Love,_

 _Brinya_

Yep, that sounded about right. What was she going to do?

She nearly knocked over the ink when Anoria came in. "Have you seen my sewing needle?" she asked. Brinya shook her head. She didn't trust herself to speak. "I can't imagine where it's gone. I could have sworn I put it right next to the thread." Brinya could only shrug. Once Anoria had gone out of the room she put her head in her hands. This was going to be a disaster. What could she have been thinking? Actually, she knew what she had been thinking. He was so pretty. What else could she possibly have been thinking? She was only human. When a gorgeous man lays himself and his kingdom at a poor girl's feet, what is she supposed to do? She didn't have the strength to refuse him. But what had he been thinking? Surely he hadn't only wanted to bed her. He had offered her so much more than that. Why? Why did he want her? She was nobody and she came from nothing. She couldn't wrap her mind around it. Sooner or later she was going to have to explain to people what had happened and what would she say if she couldn't understand it herself?

Sitting alone here in her chamber it would be easy to believe that last night had all been a dream. Perhaps she had never left this room and it had all been in her mind. Perhaps she had thought of Thranduil so long and so ardently that she had dreamed of him, dreamed that he did things to her that made her shiver. It couldn't have been real. Why would the king of the woodland realm have wanted to make her his bride? Suddenly she felt like she couldn't breathe. She needed to get out of this room. The walls were closing in. She needed some fresh air, but not in the garden. Hot tears welled up in her eyes as she stood. She needed to go somewhere to be alone. She didn't know what had come over last night, but now as she sat alone in her room she was filled with shame and dread. Shame for what she had done and dread for what was now to come. What would he think of her now? She had yielded to him so easily last night. He must see her as the worst kind of woman.

Were Beltane weddings even real? What if he had simply made them up to get into her into bed. She had been so stupid. She could find answers in the library, if she could remember where it was. The longer she was in this palace the more she was certain the doors and hallways moved. Sometimes she would swear she came one way only to have to find another way back. The palace unnerved her. It felt supernatural, like its master. She would go to the library and find what she could on Eldar marriage customs. She hoped not all of the volumes were in Elven.

Thranduil drummed his fingers on the arm of his throne as he listened to the emissary from… where was this old fool from again? It didn't matter. Thranduil wasn't listening to a word the old man was saying. He was thinking about last night with Brinya. He thought of the way her skin had glistened in the moonlight and they way her lips had parted when he kissed her. Even now it caused him to stir. He wanted her again. He longed to make her his tonight and every night. She belonged to him. He had been uncertain about how to proceed this morning. He didn't know if she would feel comfortable making a big announcement. He thought he would give her time to tell her inner circle first and then they could make the announcement publicly. It was almost midday now. Surely she must have told them by now.

He realized that the old man had stopped speaking and was waiting for a response. Thranduil rose to his feet, "Thank you, Sir. That was very… enlightening. Now, I have an important announcement for the whole kingdom. Halthar, would you please gather everyone in the great hall?"

"Yes, your majesty," Halthar sped off to spread the word and assemble everyone as quickly as possible.

The heavy tome Brinya was reading slammed shut sending a cloud of dust into the cool air. Brinya sneezed loudly and looked around the deserted library. She had expected the place to be full. Elves seemed like such learned creatures that she had wondered if many of them spent their free time in reading and study. Apparently no more than at home. Once she had learned to read, the palace library had become one of her favorite haunts. It was never crowded and no one ever seemed to notice her presence there. She felt perfectly at ease and perfectly invisible. It was the same with the library here. Apparently, Beltane weddings had once been a regular custom, although they had fallen out of fashion. At least she had that going for her. Now all that was left to do was figure out how to tell her sister and her friends that while they were asleep she had become royalty. A sound behind her made Brinya turn around sharply.

"C-Captain Tauriel," she stammered, "I didn't know you were here."

Tauriel gave her what Brinya hoped was a friendly smile and said, "I've been asked to bring you to the throne room. Everyone has assembled at the king's request."

Brinya actually heard herself squeak before she covered her mouth with her hand. Tauriel seemed to find this amusing, but she refrained from commenting on it. She did, however, comment on Brinya's reading material. "I see that you are familiarizing yourself with our people's marriage customs. That is good. A queen should learn as much as she can about the people she rules."

Brinya tried to swallow a lump in her throat, "A queen?"

"Our king told me of last night's events."

"He told you?"

Tauriel laughed, "He left out the details. I cannot speak for others, but I was very glad to hear it. He has been lonely a long time. I thought I sensed the ice around his heart melt a little the first time he saw you."

Brinya found herself at a loss for words. "Thank you, Captain Tauriel. I have been questioning my judgment. Last night I was so caught up in the moment that I'm not sure I thought properly about my ability to be a good queen. Thranduil is a good man and I see how much he loves his people. I would like to believe that I can be a comfort to him and help him carry his heavy burden, but I'm not sure that I know how."

"I think you already offer more help than you realize. Those of us who are closest to Thranduil sense the changes in him." Brinya felt a little uneasy. She had never given Captain Tauriel much thought, but she saw now how beautiful she was and she obviously cared about Thranduil. "He raised me, you know, after my parents died," Tauriel said.

Brinya shook her head, "I had no idea."

Tauriel smiled a pained smile and said, "After Orcs burned our village I was found by a scouting party wandering the woods alone. They brought me here to Thranduil and he brought me up. I know that buried under all that coldness he has a generous heart and I think that part of him is closer to the surface when you are near. It is not my place to say so, but I think he needs you."

Brinya wanted to hug Tauriel, but she wasn't sure if the captain would appreciate that gesture. She decided not to risk it and simply said, "Thank you, Captain. I hope that in the future if there's anything I can do to help you or your people, you'll let me know."

Tauriel nodded and said, "We must get you to the great hall. They'll wonder where we are."

Brinya could feel all the eyes of Mirkwood on her as she entered the hall. The clanging of her shoes echoed in the silent chamber. Brinya mentally cursed elves and their quiet feet. Tauriel, of course, didn't make a sound. She balked as they entered the room and Tauriel gave her a little shove. Sweat trickled down her back as she made her way to the front of the crowd. Anoria gave her an anxious puzzled look as she walked by. Brinya tried to smile reassuringly. When she reached the steps in front of the throne, she dared to meet Thranduil's eyes. She started to kneel, but he gestured for her to stop and she froze. She was like a lamb who had been caught in the wolf's gaze. She knew that there was no escape now.

Thranduil stood and descended the steps to where she stood. She could hear the whispers coming from the crowd. Thranduil held up his hands for silence. "My people," he began, "Today is an important day for Mirkwood and a happy day for me. Today I introduce you all to my bride." He took Brinya's hand and held it up for everyone to see, "Queen Brinya and I have married according to the ancient customs of this land. I am confident that once you know her better, you will love her as I do. Now I give all of you leave to rejoice. There will be no more work this day. We invite you all to celebrate our marriage with us and to enjoy the best that we have to offer."

Steaming trays with food were brought out and wine flowed freely. Soon the sound of laughter and music filled the hall. Thranduil scooped Brinya into his arms and carried her up the stairs to his throne. She found herself seated on his lap, looking out over dozens of tables of merrymaking. She tried to find Anoria, but couldn't make her out in the crowd.

Thranduil pressed his mouth against her ear, "Are you angry with me for putting you on display for so many people?"

Brinya blushed, "Perhaps a little embarrassed, but not angry. I'm not used to having so many eyes on me. I am quite invisible at home."

"This is your home now and you will be the belle of every ball and the envy of every woman from here to the misty mountains, so you must get used to it."

Brinya laughed and shook her head, "I do not think I shall ever get used to it. What will I tell my parents when I write to them? They'll never believe something like this."

"Would you like me to write to them?"

"Would you?! They would have to believe it if it came from you."

"You make it sound as if they think you're a liar."

"It's not that, but this is too unreal. I wasn't even sure if Anoria would believe me."

"Did she?"

"I don't know. I meant to talk to her this morning, really I did, but I couldn't think of what to say. Now I think she may be awfully angry with me."

"Then you must go and speak to her immediately. We can't have you starting your reign with a family squabble."

"Is that a command, your majesty?"

"Yes, I royally command you to abandon me while you socialize with your family and friends. On your way, practice giving random and ridiculous orders to people. It takes some getting used to."

Brinya felt her terror receding. This was going to be alright. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. It was a girlish gesture of affection and not at all passionate, but it drew cheers from the crowd nonetheless. Brinya blushed and went to find her sister.


	12. Gems for Thought

A/N: Thanks to all my reviewers! I'm sorry it took so long for the long gap in between updates, but here's two in one day!

Pairings: Thranduil/OFC

Disclaimer: Still not mine.

Chapter 11: Gems for Thought

Brinya found her sister sitting alone outside the dining hall. "Where are your attendants?" she demanded.

Anoria shrugged, "I told them to go and enjoy themselves." She sounded solemn.

Brinya gently laid her hand on her shoulder, "I don't like you being out here like this on your own. It might not be safe."

Anoria looked at her like she'd grown a third eye, "This is the safest place around. It's why father sent us here."

Brinya felt a little guilty for making her sister worry. She was such an innocent soul. Unfortunately innocent souls often get taken advantage of. Brinya was afraid that it would take an unpleasant event to make her sister see that there was more to life than sunshine and daisies. Sometimes people had darker sides. "Father keeps you guarded night and day when we're at home. He would never forgive me if something happened to you." She had accepted her role as her sister's keeper a long time ago.

Anoria looked at her with her large brown eyes, "Do you really think there's anyone here who might wish me harm? Anyway, I'm not the one who's important anymore."

Brinya put her back to the wall and let her feet slowly slide further away from her until she sank into a sitting position. "Is that really what you think? That you're not important?"

Anoria shook her head sheepishly, "Of course not," she said, "I was being infantile. It's just that I can hardly believe it. It never occurred to me when we came here that I might have to go home alone."

Brinya hadn't thought of it quite in those terms. She saw now that she wouldn't be leaving with her sister, whenever that happened. She tried to seem upbeat, "It's not as though you're going very far away. We'll be neighbors and we can visit each other as often as we like."

"I suppose that's true, but how often have we visited this place before? If Father didn't think we were in danger, we might never have come here."

"That was because we had no reason to," Brinya said firmly. She could not allow her sister or herself to believe that the small distance between Mirkwood and Balinor would cause her a great separation from her family. "Now that I'm here you'll have to visit often, and of course I'll come to see you, too."

"Have you written to Father and Mother yet?"

"Not yet. I don't know what to say."

Suddenly Anoria asked, "Why didn't you say anything to me this morning? I had to find out with everyone else."

Brinya bit her lip, "I was so afraid that King Thranduil would change his mind. I thought that maybe he had gotten what he wanted last night and he wouldn't want to see me again."

Anoria made a gasping noise and Brinya realized that she was doubled over in a fit of laughter. "You thought that he had proposed to you to get you into bed? I'm not an expert, but I don't think it usually works that way. Wouldn't he have not proposed to you, if all he wanted was to get you into bed?"

Brinya swatted her playfully, "Don't make fun of me. I don't know how these things work."

Anoria laughed even harder and said, "I bet after last night you know exactly how these things work. Maybe before my wedding night I should get you to instruct me."

Soon the two of them were clutching their sides, their whole bodies shaking with laughter. As the giggles subsided, Brinya grew serious. "So you're not angry with me?"

Anoria grew equally calm, "I wish you had told me, but no. I'm not angry."

"And you don't feel like I've robbed you of something?"

Anoria studies her closely, "Brinya, you've never robbed anyone of anything in your whole life. Even if you had refused him, I don't think that Thranduil ever would have looked twice in my direction. Never mind about my titles and land. He has more than enough of those things without me. The two of you share a special connection. We can all see it. All of my life you have stood behind me and been my protector, but now it's time that you step up and claim what's yours. The most important king anyone can think of chose you to be his wife. He wanted you for yourself, not because of what you could bring him. From this day forward, people are going to see you for who you really are, the way those of us who love you always have. You're not going to be able to play the shrinking violet any longer. You're the centerpiece."

Brinya pulled her sister into a bear hug with tears in her eyes, "What did I ever do to deserve a sister like you?"

Anoria shrugged, "You're just lucky I guess. Besides, I have my own motives. Father will have to let me come visit you here. Without him as my escort, think of all the young men I could talk to!"

Brinya wiped away her tears and chuckled, "I'm glad you have your priorities straight. Have you seen Bard in the last few days?"

As the night's festivities wore on, Thranduil pulled his new wife away from the festivities. "I have something I need to show you." He led her down steep stone steps into the depths of the palace. There was no railing and Brinya would have been afraid of falling to her death if he hadn't been holding her hand. The stairs seemed to go on and on. Even with him there, she felt a little nervous. A voice in the back of her mind said that maybe he regretted choosing her for his wife and had decided to lock her up in the dungeon for the rest of her life. Eventually they came to a heavy wooden door at the end of a dank and musty hallway. It felt like this place hadn't seen the light of day for a long time.

"Where are we?" she asked tentatively.

Thranduil simply smirked and opened the door with a large silver key. She should have thought that it was odd that the key was silver instead of iron, but she didn't have time to think about it. What was behind the door was almost beyond anything she could comprehend. It was a whole room filled with treasure. True, there was silver and gold, finer than she had ever seen, but it was the gems that truly captured her attention. There were jewels of every color and every size on every type of setting imaginable. There were ruby earrings and emerald necklaces and diamond tiaras.

Thranduil seemed to find her awe amusing. "Do you like it?" he asked, although the question was clearly unnecessary.

"In my dreams alone, have I imagined such a place."

When she made no move to touch any of the gems he asked, "Is there something in particular you would like to wear? My late wife often visited this room as she prepared for formal gatherings."

Brinya knew that he had been married before and it didn't bother her, but she was curious. "What was her favorite piece?"

Thranduil indicated a medium sized silver box sitting on a pedestal at the center of the room. "She often had things made with the contents of this box. If they suit your taste, we'll have the dwarves make some custom pieces for you. I can tell you from experience that an ill-fitting crown is very uncomfortable. You spend most of your day wondering if it's going to fall off."

"A crown?" Brinya asked in amazement as she approached the box. She was a queen. Of course she would wear a crown. She hadn't had time to think about details like that. She opened the box and felt like her eyes almost burned, the light from within was so bright.

"They're white gems," Thranduil said, anticipating her question, "made from pure starlight. They're among the most valuable things the Eldar possess. They're yours now, if you like them." Brinya gaped at him. "It's my wedding present to you."

It wasn't until they were leaving the chamber that Brinya recovered herself enough to speak, "What other valuable things do your people possess?"

For once, Thranduil looked puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"You said that the gems were among the most valuable things you possess. What are the other valuable things you possess?"

He laughed a deep laugh and Brinya felt the vibration right down to her toes. "As with any people, our most valuable possessions are our children. We breed very rarely compared to your kind."

Brinya felt her heart stop. Children. Everything had happened so quickly. Between their courtship and their marriage, she had hardly had a chance to catch her breath, let alone think ahead. Elves valued children. "Can we have children?" she asked abruptly, "I mean, I'm not an elf."

Thranduil smirked again, "No, you are not. In truth, I am not certain. Unions between my kind and yours have always been rare. I have heard of children produced from these unions, but in every case I can think of, the Eldar has always been the female. I do not know if a human woman can bear the children of an elf."


	13. Tidings of Comfort and Joy

Chapter 12: Tidings of Comfort and Joy

A/N: Greetings, readers! Thank you so much to everyone who is still reading this. I'm especially grateful to Kumi Kinomoto for my most recent review. I know there's no good excuse for waiting so long to update, but I recently got engaged (to a real person, not King Thranduil) and I've been occupied with planning the wedding. Enjoy!

Brinya's hands shook as she smoothed the wrinkled parchment out in front of her. Her eyes filled with tears and she struggled to make out the words through her blurry vision. It began,

 _"My dearest daughter,_

 _I pray that this letter finds you and your sister well. I also pray that my gamble has paid off and that you and your sister have been completely isolated in Mirkwood and therefore know nothing of the terror that has ravaged our countryside. It is not a pleasant story to tell, but I can no longer justify keeping you in the dark. You and your sister can offer no help at the present time and I wished to spare you anguish. This is not a pretty story to tell, but I will start at the beginning._

 _Two autumns past, a merchant was seen crossing the mountains to the north into our borders. According to those who witnessed his arrival, the man himself was unremarkable. He was well dressed with the manners of a gentleman and he tipped the innkeepers where he stayed handsomely. What was remarkable, and what witnesses still recall with horror, was his cargo. The man was a sorcerer. The monsters he brought into our kingdom, supposedly for trade, were the Soul Thieves. I grew up hearing tales of these beings, but until they arrived in our land I assumed they were nothing more than a child's bedtime story. I worry now that my ignorance has led us to disaster._

 _Soul Thieves are unlike any other forms of life for which we have names. They are not quite beasts, not quite ghosts, and they are certainly not quite men. They are more dangerously contagious than any plague. They spread their reign of terror and swell their ranks by transforming their victims. Anyone who is unfortunate enough to feel their icy breath or smell its unholy stench transfigures completely within a fortnight. Slowly, the victim's humanity drains away and they are left with nothing but their most evil qualities. These shells of their former selves wreak havoc on the places they once called home and the people they once called friends and family. They are not immortal nor are the preternaturally strong or swift, but they inspire such terror in their adversaries that many good men often perish before a few of them can be overcome. I am overwrought at how useless my crown has proven to its people. I do not say I despair of overcoming this evil, but there seems to be little reason to hope. It is my fervent wish that you and your sister will remain in Mirkwood indefinitely. I hope against hope that I will be able to write to you with better tidings and beckon you home, but until such time, I beg you to make yourself useful to your host and ingratiate yourself with him in any way you can. I say this not so much to caution you, but with the idea that you may impress the importance of this to your sister and persuade her to do likewise. She has never had to work for her place or say thank you for what until now has been her birthright. She may not accept it gracefully. I pray that God watches over you both and keeps you from danger._

 _With all my love,_

 _Your father_

Brinya stifled her cries with her hand. She had to talk to Anoria about this, but she wanted to ask Thranduil a few things first. He was obviously keeping some information from her. Surely the princess would have gotten a letter as well. While her father may have abbreviated some of the more grotesque details for her sister's delicate sensibilities, his general message must have been the same. They were going to be guests here in Mirkwood indefinitely. Indeed, he seemed to think it was very likely that they might never return home.

 _My dear father,_

 _You may rest easy on one account. Your letter finds Anoria and me both in good health and good spirits. King Thranduil has been most accommodating and I sincerely believe that we will remain welcome additions to his court for as long as conditions should necessitate. Nothing can compare with your trials at home, but much has happened here which is of import. I do not think you have time for flowery lines of poetry, so I will be concise. Be advised that what I have to say may shock you. There is a young man at court (I think he is young enough at any rate)that Anoria seems especially taken with. His name is Bard and he is the Master of Laketown. This is not the shocking news, but I feel duty bound to keep you appraised of her interests as well as I can. Now we come to the real news and I find that I do not know how to tell you this gently. I have lately been married. If that were not surprising enough, it is the other party of this marriage that must truly shock you. It still shocks me and I was there. It is to King Thranduil. I am now queen of the woodland realm. I know that at first this must seem like a jest, but I beg you and the queen to regard this news with absolute solemnity as it is the truth. I promise to divulge the details when I see you both in person. For now, let us simply say that time here has been magical._

 _Your faithful daughter,_

 _Brinya_

Anoria read a similar letter and composed her own response.

 _Beloved Mother and Father,_

 _The news from your letter strikes at my very core. It pains me deeply that I must remain apart from you and our people. In this time of danger we ought to be united and strong for Balinor's sake. I wish I could come to you, but I will stay here as you command. I defer to your wisdom now more than ever. While I don't wish to distract you from the difficulties I know you are facing, I must write a few lines about what has transpired since we arrived here in Mirkwood. You will never believe it, but you must believe it because I am telling you the whole truth. My only sister has gotten married. I am a little hurt that I was not invited to attend to the ceremony, but it was held at night under the moon, and I am given to understand that such things are not uncommon here. No one thought that I might wish to be invited. The marriage itself is not even the most shocking part of the news. It is the man to whom she is wed that you will hardly believe. It is King Thanduil himself. Do not be angry, Mother, at what you may perceive as haste. I know you and so I know your moods when you hear unexpected news. It is common knowledge here that he pursued her most ardently, and what woman could resist his charms?_

 _After so many in the kingdom had given her up as an old spinster, my sister now rules the wealthiest and most powerful kingdom I can think of. I would love to see the faces of all those harpies at court now. I will not burden you with all the details now, but I promise that we may discuss it at great length at our next meeting. Do not despair yet, Father. Although none of us could ever have foreseen this turn of events, it may turn out to be a boon to all of Balinor, not only to my sister. With Brinya as his wife, Thranduil cannot fail to send troops to Balinor's aid. We could never have expected or imagined such a thing from him before, but now I am certain that the elves will help our people. I will speak to Brinya about it post haste and I am certain that arrangements will be made as soon as possible._

 _Your Anoria_

Anoria signaled to one of the palace servants to post her letter immediately. She hoped her parents would read her reply before they read her sister's. Their letters were bound to contain much of the same information, but Anoria especially enjoyed breaking shocking news to the king and queen. Even though she wouldn't be able to see their faces, she hoped that her letter would be the one to completely surprise them.

Later that night Thranduil made his way through the ancient halls without making a sound. He often wandered late at night when everyone else was asleep. He was rarely able to walk these halls without being accosted by someone with a matter that needed his attention. He loved his kingdom and his subjects, but sometimes he wanted to enjoy his home without worrying about its management. The news of his recent marriage had come as a surprise to everyone, but once the initial shock had worn off there had been much rejoicing. People, particularly women, had come out of the woodwork to wish him happiness with his new bride. He had noticed a certain coldness from Princess Anoria since the news had reached her, but he had no doubt her feelings would mellow with time. She wasn't used to losing something she wanted to her sister. To hasten the process, he brought Bard to the palace at every opportunity. He suspected that Bard was not entirely ignorant of his true motives, but he never protested. After all, Anoria was a beautiful girl. Bard was what some people called middle aged. His oldest daughter was nearing adulthood, but he certainly wasn't too old to see the appeal of future marital bliss. He still had his health and his looks. With the status and wealth conferred on him by his new position, he hoped to yet make another woman very happy.

Thranduil stirred from his reverie when he saw a figure lurking around the next corner. He wondered who but him would be walking the corridors this late at night. He quickened his pace and his hand went to the hilt of his sword, which hung in the scabbard strapped to his waist. The figure did not appear to notice him and it kept moving at the same speed as before. Thranduil stopped dead in his tracks when he saw who, or rather, what it was. It was the figure of a woman. She looked pale and emaciated. Her white robes hung off of her skeletal frame in tatters. She was a wraith. He could feel the malevolence pouring from her in waves. He drew his sword silently. He could call for a guard and wake the castle, but why? He could dispatch this one creature himself. He approached the figure without making a sound, as only an elf could. She turned and he drew back his arm to deliver the death blow. He stopped, his blade an inch from her throat. It was Brinya. "No," he whispered and staggered back, "It cannot be you." He had left his bride asleep in their chamber only minutes before. She couldn't be here. She couldn't be this thing.

He stared into her sorrowful eyes, the eyes that he knew so well. She reached down and put her hand to her stomach, which was swollen and distended. "Your child did this to me," she rasped, and he could feel her sour breath on his face. She smelled like the dead. She was a dead thing that moved. He drew back another step as she spoke again, "It is not just my body that will wither and die. Your spawn will suck out my very spirit. Edain women are not strong enough to bear Eldar children. Beware. This is our fate." Thranduil could feel his whole body shaking. He belatedly realized that this was fear. He was afraid, both for himself and for Brinya, but what could he do? Had he already condemned her to this destiny?

"I'm so sorry," he told the figure softly, "How do I prevent this? Tell me how to save you. I'll do anything, please." The last word was an afterthought. He was not used to pleading with anyone. He felt the figure's hatred soften a measure.

When she spoke it was not with the raspy voice of a corpse, but with Brinya's own sweet voice. "You must convince me that you do not want children. Say that the pain of losing them to mortal death is too great. Persuade me that you would be happier without them." Her hand strayed again to her abdomen and the hate returned. Brinya's voice was gone and once again the wraith spoke with the voice of one long past the point of speech, "I died trying to give you what you wanted. I gave my soul to bear you a child you could hold onto when I was gone." She reached her gnarled bony fingers toward him and this time he didn't back away. He let her touch him with those terrifying dead hands and he felt the life leave his body.

Thranduil gasped and sat straight up in bed. His body was covered in sweat. His silk nightshirt was soaked and plastered to his back. His hair was matted to his neck and forehead. His wife stirred next to him, but did not wake. She looked like an angel with the moonlight on her still form. He had to protect her. He had to make sure she never turned into the figure from his nightmare. It would break her heart, but he had to convince her that he didn't want children. He wouldn't let anything take her from him, not even something he had a hand in making.


End file.
